Ruby’s fingers fly over the keyboard, and the screen changes from the still images to the surveillance footage from the night at the museum. “I had tech send me video from the time you go upstairs to the library until the time you get back.” On the screen, I watch myself exit a door and nearly crash into the server. “Then I asked them to cross-check all the footage to see who disappears at the same time you do.”
“That’s brilliant, Ruby.” I clap her on the shoulder.
“Again, hold that thought,” she says, her voice ominous. The screen splits into grids again, only this time it’s video footage of... Cybil. She’s mingling with guests, sticking by Mr. Edmond’s side until she’s... not. I search different camera angles, but with each passing second that turns into minutes, it’s clear what Ruby’s trying to show me. “The only person who seems to disappear from the gala at the exact same time as you is—”
“Cybil.” Her name escapes in a whisper, disbelief tightening my throat. Could she have been the figure in black? Was she the one trying to break into the museum library? The timing is too perfect—too coincidental. I watch her step into the gala seconds before I do, her expression unsettled, like she’d been caught off guard.
Like someone unexpectedly got in the way of her mission.
I can’t unsee it. Suddenly, the shadowy figure has a face and it’s Cybil. “I thought tech said the surveillance footage from that night was glitchy.”
Ruby pauses the video and looks over her shoulder at me. I hate the pity I see in her gaze—like she thinks I’ve let myself be duped by a woman I once had feelings for and am desperate for an excuse. “Our techs wiped the footage so no one would seeyouup there, but they didn’t scrub the entire feed. The other cameras in the museum were still working, which makes it look less like a glitch and more like someoneelsedeliberately tampered with the footage.”
Someone like Cybil...
My gut twists. Cybil, a corporate spy? Even with the evidence right in front of my face, it still doesn’t track. “Maybe she’s not innocent,” I admit. “But she’s not—”
“What if she’snotthe person you think she is anymore?”
Ruby checks her cell phone again, and irritation flares in me at her distraction.
“Expecting a call?” My question comes out sharper than I mean.
“Yeah.” Her brows pinch. “Seth hasn’t checked in yet.”
My pulse kicks up. “What do you mean?”
Her eyes meet mine, and the look in them makes my blood run cold. “He hasn’t checked in yet,” she repeats.
I’m already out of the van and heading to the restaurant. The last time I saw Seth, he looked terrible—pale and unsteady. Using my comms, I ask, “When was the last time you saw him?”
“Not since he walked inside the restaurant.”
I check my watch and do the math from the last time I saw Seth.
Twenty-five minutes.Not such a long time unless you’re being waterboarded or electrocuted—or you’re missing an FBI agent among a den of criminals. Given the high-stakes nature of the cocktail party and the presence of dangerous individuals, my immediate concern is that Seth—who isn’t trained for undercover fieldwork—might have blown his cover.
Twenty-five minutes could be a matter of life and death.
My gut twists like a live wire. Seth Jackson has a family—a wife and two little girls who are expecting him to walk through the door tonight.Danny Morales never made it home.
I grit my teeth, pushing the thought away. I won’t let that happen to Seth.
The back of the restaurant comes into view. It’s mostly empty except for a few stragglers and the last of the firefighters rolling their hoses and putting their gear away. Seth’s not among them.
When we briefed him on his role tonight, we expected the party to last a lot longer and for Seth to simply call an Uber and leave at the end of the night. Once he was on his way home, he was supposed to check in and let us know. “Did he exit out the front?”
“I’ve searched through the footage I was able to get before the fire trucks showed up, but I didn’t see him leave.”
Ruby doesn’t worry—at least, that’s what she wants everyone to believe. She fights anxiety with sarcasm, but I hear the concern threading through her voice. Seth isn’t trained for this kind of thing, but he’s not stupid, and if she’s worried, it’s for good reason.
I sidestep a hose and approach a broad-shouldered firefighter, his uniform smelling of smoke and cooking oil. He glances up as I approach.
“You with the restaurant?” he asks.
I shake my head. “Is anyone left inside?”
“It’s all clear.”
