I was right about one thing.
Victoria had watched the clip.
I found out exactly how many times from a source I would not have predicted, and the number was not one or two or even five. I found out three days later, in a quiet conversation with Daniel, who had pieced it together from a combination of the penthouse security logs and a particularly indiscreet call made from Victoria’s personal line to her media contact. The call had been captured on the same monitoring system that had caught Sutton, because Daniel was the kind of man who, once he set something up, left it running.
“Nine times,” Daniel told me, setting a printed log on the desk between us and tapping it once with one finger. “She watched it nine times before she made her first call.”
I looked at the log. Then at Daniel. “N
