Carolyn leaned forward and zoomed in. The image softened then sharpened. Samuel Voss, jacket on but tie not yet properly knotted, pressed close against a woman with red hair. Not a greeting. Not a moment of innocent comfort between old friends catching up before a ceremony.
His hand at the side of her face, her fingers curled into the lapel of his jacket, both of them entirely absorbed in each other with the ease of two people who had done this many times before and saw no particular reason to rush. The room was very quiet. Ray leaned closer to the screen. “Two hours before the ceremony,” Carolyn said softly.