Chapter 3 — The Accuser’s Claim
Clara stood with her arms crossed tightly over her chest.
She refused to look down at the golden retriever sitting innocently on the floor.
Her gaze stayed fixed on Samantha.
I left that kitchen for precisely two minutes, Clara said, her voice rising in frustration.
Two minutes to grab the serving plates from the dining room sideboard.
When I walked back in, Harper was standing right beside the ruined dessert.
There was no one else in this part of the house.
Barnaby was supposed to be locked outside on the back patio.
Someone let him in, and someone left that box wide open on the counter.
Samantha stared up from the floor, listening to the rigid timeline.
She looked back at the counter where the cake had been sitting.
The height of the marble island seemed impossible for a young child to casually dismantle without leaving handprints, yet the entire base of the counter was scuffed with smudges.
Clara doubled down on her accusation.
I am simply stating the facts, Clara insisted, gesturing sharply toward the kitchen.
A child wants sweets, a child sneaks into the kitchen, and a child ruins the centerpiece.
It happens every single time.
Barnaby let out another happy tail thump against the baseboard.
Samantha didn’t answer right away.
She shifted her weight on the hardwood floor.
Samantha looked past Clara’s shoulder and noticed an unusual mark on the wooden floor near the pantry threshold.