photographed the bag.
Then she left.
I waited until her footsteps faded.
My heart raced, but my hands stayed steady. Twenty-eight years investigating fraud had taught me how people exploited panic to make their victims careless.
I retrieved my phone and checked the bedroom security camera.
Three days earlier, after learning someone had entered my room without permission, I’d installed a small camera overlooking the doorway and luggage rack. It had recorded Brittany entering, searching my belongings, and part of her whispered phone conversation.
I left the pouch untouched.
Instead,
