knowledge that she was in another part of the house from Lindström. If he were to come up here for some reason, she would hear him. She had always been a light sleeper.
The third floor was laid out just like the second, but the wall that led to the master bedroom on the second floor contained two doors. Francesca peered in. One of the rooms was decorated in a deep, blood red, and would have been a nightmare to sleep in. The other had clearly been designed with a child in mind.
Across the hall, above the peach room, she found a room with a beige carpet and beige walls. She frowned. It was fine, but dull.
She turned to the last door—the one situated over the second-floor library.
This room was painted a pale green, and Francesca immediately felt as if she had stepped into a garden. Lavender accent pieces decorated the room—a lush bedspread, a glass bowl on the cedar chest. It was beautiful.
And there was the window. The same window she had seen in the library below. It was dark now, but Francesca knew that if she had been up here earlier in the day, she would have seen the treetops. In the morning, she supposed she would see a thick blanket of snow.
It was the most beautiful room she had ever seen.
She went in and closed the door behind her. Now that she was here, it was easy to forget about Lindström in his room below. It felt like she was in her own private apartment. To her shock, she found that there was a part of her that was glad to be stranded here.
When else am I going to get a chance to stay in a place like this?
Might as well get comfortable. She took off the maid’s uniform, took off her clothes, then put the maid’s uniform back on to use as pajamas.
She moved to the bed, sat down, and turned on the light that stood on the nightstand. She took out her gun, checked that the safety was still on, and set that down on the nightstand too.
Then she took out her phone.
This just might be the scariest thing I’ve done all day, she thought, mildly amused, as she dialed Laird.
“Where are you?” he demanded by way of greeting.
“You’re not even going to say hello?” she asked.
“Hello. Where are you?”
“I’m still at Lindström’s,” she said. “He came back.”
Laird was quiet for a minute. “Do you have him in custody?”
“Not exactly.”
“What does not exactly mean?”
“He says he’s innocent.”
Laird made an exasperated noise. “Of course he says he’s innocent,” he said. “What were you expecting? A written confession?”
“Very funny,” Francesca said. She was explaining this badly. She closed her eyes. “Did you know that we can’t extradite members of the royal family? Konäs doesn’t allow it.”
“We have an extradition treaty with Konäs,” Laird said.
“Right,” Francesca said. “But apparently it doesn’t apply to members of the royal family.”
“He told you that, too, did he?” Laird asked.
“Yes, he did.” Francesca was feeling defensive. “But it’ll be easy to confirm. Look it up.”
“You’re taking his word for a lot of things, Frannie,” he said.
She heard his fingers on the keyboard of his computer, so she didn’t bother to argue.
After a moment, Laird spoke. “All right,” he said. “It looks like that much is true. The royal family is protected by a special addendum to the treaty. From what I can gather, it looks like it was added with the intent of protecting their international business interests. It makes sense if you look at it that way. Lindström wouldn’t want to have to stand trial in the U.S. if an American citizen sued him for something to do with his company.”
“He was telling the truth then,” Francesca said. “I guess he’s taking that loophole and applying it to the current situation.”
“Pretty clever of him, actually,” Laird said. “I thought it was stupid of him to buy a commercial plane ticket to get back home. But he must have known when he was doing it that there would be nothing anyone could do to him once he touched down.”
“He says he’s innocent,” Francesca said again.
Laird sighed. “Frannie. They always say they’re innocent. You know you can’t believe that.”
“You don’t need to patronize me,” Francesca said. “I wouldn’t be bringing it up if I didn’t think there was something noteworthy about it.”
“Are you going to tell me you actually believe he’s innocent?” Laird asked. “Because we saw him on that video, remember? This is