Mara's Apartment

Mara Kline's apartment was empty except for a mattress, a dead plant, and four notary stamps soaking in bleach in the kitchen sink.

Roslyn found a burner phone in the freezer. Theo found a receipt from the title office under the stove. Elise found the thing that mattered because she was the one looking for fear instead of records.

It was a child's drawing taped behind the bedroom door.

A small girl had drawn three women holding hands: one in blue, one in green, one in purple. Over the purple woman, someone had written June if she ever asks.

Ruby had been there.

Elise showed it to Roslyn without speaking.

Roslyn's face hardened. "She was kept here."

"Or hidden here."

"Blood on the windowsill," Theo said from the living room.

Elise turned.

A thin smear marked the peeling paint beside the fire escape. Not much. Enough.

Roslyn called it in.

Elise looked down into the alley. A trash bin sat below the fire escape, lid bent. Beyond it, the street opened toward bus lines, payday lenders, and the county road that led out of Westport.

"Ruby could have escaped," Elise said.

"With blood loss," Theo said.

"She has survived worse."

Roslyn came back from the kitchen holding the burner phone in a plastic bag. "Last outgoing text went to Martin's executive assistant."

"Not Martin?" Elise asked.

"Assistant."

Theo understood first. "Mara was not reporting to Martin directly. She was reporting to his office. He keeps distance."

Elise opened the closet. A garment bag hung from the rod. Inside was a black dress, black heels, and a visitor badge for HartLine Trust Services dated the morning of Elise's death claim.

Mara had been in the building.

Roslyn's phone rang. She listened, then looked at Elise.

"Patrol found the SUV."

"Ruby?"

"No. But the trunk has your blood in it."

Elise touched the cut on her palm.

Someone had saved her blood from the marina.