Again, Maeve entered.
Again, the image failed.
Again, eight minutes disappeared.
“This camera malfunctioned at a convenient moment,” Lydia said.
“It might have been deliberately interrupted,” the detective replied.
“That would require technical knowledge.”
“And system access.”
Lydia’s expression tightened.
“I hope you are not suggesting that someone on my team was involved.”
“I am not suggesting anything yet.”
A guard arrived carrying Maeve’s canvas handbag.
“We found this in the employee locker room.”
Lydia pointed toward a nearby table.
“Open it.”
Detective Pike took the bag himself.
Inside were Maeve’s wallet, a bus pass, a small umbrella, a paperback novel, Oliver’s asthma inhaler, and a metal lunch container.
Beneath the container, wrapped in a piece of green cloth, was a ruby pendant.
The ballroom erupted.
Oliver stared at the jewel.
Maeve did not understand what she was seeing.
“That is not the necklace,” she said.
Lydia stepped forward.
“It is part of it. The central stone can be detached from the chain.”
“I have never seen that pendant.”
The detective lifted the cloth without touching it directly.
“Who brought this bag upstairs?”
“The guard,” Maeve said. “It was in my locker.”
“Was the locker secured?”
“Yes.”
“Who has access to employee lockers?”
“Management,” answered the hotel supervisor.
Lydia’s voice rose.
“This is absurd. The master key was in her cart, the ruby was in her bag, and the security video places her at the scene.”
Oliver looked around the ballroom.
“Someone put it there.”
Lydia ignored him.
Detective Pike requested evidence bags.
Maeve felt every stare in the room pressing against her skin. She had spent years learning to become unnoticed.
She repaired torn hems while wealthy guests continued their conversations.
She removed wine stains while people complained that service was slow.
She restored antique fabric for collectors who never asked her name.
Invisibility had once felt safe.
Tonight it felt like a cage.
Detective Pike spoke quietly.
“Mrs. Rowan, I need you to come with us while we investigate.”
Oliver stepped between them.
“No.”
“Oliver,” Maeve whispered.
“You can’t take her.”
“I am not arresting her at this moment,” Pike said. “But she must answer additional questions.”
“She already answered you.”
Maeve knelt in front of her son.
His eyes were wet, but he was fighting the tears.
“Listen to me. I need you to stay calm.”
“They’re blaming you because of your uniform.”
The words were loud enough for the nearest guests to hear.
Maeve touched his cheek.
“They can accuse me. That does not make them right.”
“What if nobody believes you?”
“Then we make them look at the truth until they do.”
A new voice came from the ballroom entrance.
“What exactly is happening in my hotel?”
Sebastian Mercer, the owner of Bellweather Hall, walked into the room.
He had arrived directly from the airport, still wearing a dark traveling coat. Beside him was his daughter, Camille, a university student who had helped design the gala’s digital art installation.
Lydia crossed the ballroom to meet him.
“Sebastian, thank goodness. The Crimson Star has been stolen.”
His eyes moved toward the empty case, the police, and Maeve standing beside her frightened son.
“Who opened the display?”
“We believe she did.”
Lydia pointed.
Sebastian knew Maeve. Two months earlier, she had restored a fire-damaged tapestry that had hung in his family’s hotel for almost a century.
He looked at the ruby pendant being sealed inside an evidence bag.
“What does Maeve say?”
“That she was framed,” Lydia replied.
“I asked what Maeve says.”
Maeve stood.
“Someone called me to the gallery. The security recording is missing eight minutes. A master key appeared in my cart, and that pendant appeared inside my locked bag.”
Sebastian turned to the security chief.
“Why is the recording incomplete?”
“We are checking the system.”
Camille had been staring at the large screen.
“That footage isn’t original,” she said.
The security chief frowned.
“What do you mean?”
“It has been exported.”
“Of course it was exported. We transferred it to the presentation system.”
“No. The compression artifacts are already embedded. This file was exported before you brought it here.”
Lydia gave an impatient sigh.
“Camille, this is not one of your university projects.”
Camille ignored her and approached the technician.
“Show me the file properties.”
The technician opened a panel on the screen.
Camille studied the information.
“This copy was created at nine twenty-nine.”
The necklace had not been reported missing until nine thirty-eight.
Detective Pike looked at the security chief.
“Who exported it?”
“I didn’t.”
“Who could?”
“Anyone with administrative access.”