Page 23

The change was immediate enough that I almost walked into her.

“What?”

She didn’t answer.

Her eyes were fixed on the far side of the structure.

The pumpkin lantern was no longer on the low shelf beside the guest entrance.

It sat several yards away near a side opening, half-hidden beside a stack of folded scenic panels.

I looked from the lantern to Sybil.

She crossed the room and stopped a few feet short of it.

“I put that on the shelf.”

“I saw you.”

“No. I mean that’s where it belongs. It doesn’t move during setup unless I move it.”

I shifted closer to the side opening and looked through without crossing out of sight of her. The staff passage beyond it was empty. A radio charger hummed somewhere through the adjoining wall. Outside, somebody rolled a cart over gravel.

“Who has legitimate access to this room?”

“Right now? Too many people. Performers, reset crew, safety, maintenance, me, Clinton.”

“Troy?”

“Yes.”

“Rick?”

“If he wanted it.”

I checked behind the scenic panels and along the marked passage. Nothing had been disturbed enough to tell me who had carried a lantern across a room.

Sybil folded her arms.

“Someone could have moved it because they were cleaning.”

“Could have.”

“Or because they needed the shelf.”

“Could have.”

Her gaze snapped to mine. “You’re doing that thing again.”

“What thing?”

“Agreeing in a way that means you don’t agree at all.”

“I agree there are innocent explanations.”

“But?”

“But it was in the correct position when we came through earlier. Now it isn’t. You didn’t move it. I didn’t move it. We’ve been together.”