Madeline Prescott

As the rain came down, eighteen-year-old Madeline Prescott spun a neat tale about sneaking out the night her folks went ghost, leaving a tidy home with nary a scratch on the locks. But when a peek behind the panels of a hidden study unearthed some dirty secrets, her jitters vanished faster than a two-bit grifter, leaving behind the ice-cold calm of a dame who knew every creaking floorboard in the joint. It's enough to make a flatfoot ask: is she just a weeping kid caught in a crossfire, or the mastermind pulling the strings behind the whole caper?