"The mansion keeps no secrets," Mara said, pulling out her handcuffs. "It just waits for someone smart enough to listen."
"But you, Silas," Mara said, turning to the lawyer. "You know the house. You installed the generator yourself last spring. You knew the east wing would be blind. So you sat in the dark with her. Or did you?"
The rain hammered the windows like a fist demanding entry.
"Reading," Mara repeated, finally turning. Her eyes swept past Elara to the tall, silent figure by the fireplace. Silas Crane, the family’s lawyer. He held a snifter of brandy he hadn't touched. "And you, Mr. Crane? You were with her?"
Elara’s fingers tightened on the arm of the settee. Silas set down his brandy, untouched.