The detective turned toward Lydia.
“You have administrative access?”
“As event director, yes. So do several other people.”
Camille examined the screen again.
“The timestamp was modified too.”
Maeve felt Oliver’s hand close around hers.
“I told you,” he whispered.
Lydia shook her head.
“This proves only that the system is unreliable.”
“No,” Camille said. “It proves someone prepared this video before the theft was announced.”
Sebastian removed his coat.
“Find the original recording.”
The security chief began typing.
After several seconds, his face changed.
“It has been deleted from the primary server.”
“Backups?” asked Detective Pike.
“Also deleted.”
Lydia spread her hands.
“Then we may never know what happened during those eight minutes.”
Camille looked toward the ceiling.
“The gallery camera was not the only thing recording.”
Everyone followed her gaze.
Above the center of the ballroom hung an enormous mirrored sculpture made of rotating metal panels. Throughout the gala, hidden projectors had cast moving patterns across its surface. Small cameras positioned around the sculpture tracked the room and adjusted the light in response to the guests’ movements.
“It records spatial data,” Camille explained. “The images are low resolution, but the system stores continuous visual reference files.”
Lydia went still.
“That installation faces the ballroom.”
“One of the tracking cameras faces the private gallery entrance.”
“Those files are not security footage.”
“They do not need to be.”
Camille connected her laptop to the display system.
Lydia walked toward Sebastian.
“This is becoming a spectacle. The police already have physical evidence.”
“They have evidence that may have been planted,” Sebastian said.
“You cannot seriously believe a temporary employee over me.”
Sebastian looked at her for a long moment.
“I believe evidence over everyone.”
Camille opened a sequence of files.
The image was distorted by reflections from the mirrored sculpture, but the gallery entrance was visible in the background.
At 9:16, Maeve appeared beside the eastern door.
She entered the gallery.
Less than a minute later, she came out again.
She had told the truth.
At 9:19, another figure entered through the western door.
A man wearing a waiter’s jacket.
He looked toward the ballroom, removed a card from his pocket, and opened the display case.
The guests began murmuring.
Lydia’s assistant, Kellan Frost, stood near the stage.
His face turned gray.
On the screen, the man removed the necklace and placed it inside a silver catering box. Then he closed the display and left through the service passage.
All eyes moved toward Kellan.
He took one step backward.
Detective Pike blocked his path.
“Do not move.”
Kellan looked at Lydia.
She did not look back.
The detective searched his jacket and found no necklace, but Camille continued playing the recording.
At 9:24, Kellan entered the employee preparation room carrying the silver box.
At 9:27, Lydia joined him.
The camera angle did not reveal what happened inside the room, but Lydia emerged holding something wrapped in green cloth.
The same shade of cloth found in Maeve’s handbag.
Lydia’s composure finally cracked.
“This recording is distorted. You cannot identify anyone from those images.”
Camille enlarged the frame.
The mirrored panels had captured Lydia’s face from two separate angles.
Her crystal-covered gown reflected light like a field of stars.
There was no possibility of mistaking her.
Detective Pike faced Kellan.
“Where is the necklace?”
Kellan swallowed.
“I don’t know.”
“Think carefully.”
“I only did what I was told.”
Lydia spun toward him.
“Be quiet.”
The detective’s voice remained calm.
“What were you told to do?”
Kellan’s eyes moved around the ballroom.
The guests who had admired him an hour earlier now watched him as though he were something trapped beneath glass.
“Lydia said the necklace was already a replica,” he whispered.
A shocked silence followed.
Sebastian stepped closer.
“What did you say?”
Kellan’s voice trembled.
“The real necklace was removed before the gala. She said the museum’s insurance policy would cover the loss. Tonight’s theft was supposed to make everything look believable.”
Lydia laughed, but the sound was thin and unsteady.
“He is trying to protect himself.”
“You promised nobody would be hurt,” Kellan continued. “You said Maeve would be questioned and released.”
Maeve stared at him.
“You put the key in my cart.”
Kellan lowered his head.
“Yes.”
“And the pendant in my bag?”
“Yes.”
Oliver moved closer to his mother.
His small face hardened with an anger that looked too old for him.
Lydia pointed at Kellan.
“He planned this. He had access to the gallery.”
“Because you gave me access.”