“Once the claim is approved, we transfer the assets and close everything down.”

Another voice responded.

A man’s voice.

“What about the girl?”

“She won’t be a problem.”

My stomach tightened.

The recording continued.

“What about the original?”

“I have the key. The rest is a matter of time.”

A click.

Then silence.

Detective Ortiz replayed the last section.

“The original,” she said. “He may be referring to the original trust instrument.”

“Who is the other man?” I asked.

Gabriel looked at the device.

“I don’t recognize the voice.”

I studied his face.

“Are you sure?”

His silence lasted a fraction too long.

Then someone knocked at the front door.

All three of us froze.

The security driver appeared in the hallway.

“Mr. Rowan, there’s a woman outside asking for Emma. She says her name is Ashley.”

Detective Ortiz immediately drew her weapon and signaled the driver to step away from the entrance.

“Is she alone?” she asked.

“Yes.”

“Don’t open the door yet.”

I stared toward the hallway.

Ashley had come to my home.

She had given us an address, not this one. She had no reason to know I would return today unless someone had told her.

“Check the cameras,” Detective Ortiz ordered.

The driver looked at his phone.

Then his face changed.

“Detective, the front gate camera was disconnected three minutes ago.”

Gabriel moved between me and the entrance.

“Get her out of here.”

“No,” I said.

He turned sharply.

“Emma, this isn’t safe.”

“I’m tired of running away from every person who knows something about my life.”

Detective Ortiz glanced toward the windows.

“I’m not opening the door without backup.”

A phone vibrated in Ashley’s hand outside. Through the narrow window beside the entrance, I watched her answer it.

Her expression changed.

She looked directly at the house.

Then she began shouting.

“Emma! Don’t trust Gabriel!”

The words hit me like a slap.

Gabriel went rigid.

Ashley hammered on the door.

“He knows what was in the box! He knows why your mother ran! He didn’t rescue you by accident!”

Detective Ortiz raised her radio.

“Units to the address. Possible hostile witness at the front entrance.”

Ashley screamed again.

“Ask him what happened to Margaret!”

Then a dark vehicle pulled into the driveway.

Its headlights swept across the windows.

Ashley turned toward it, and the color drained from her face.

The car stopped.

A man stepped out.

Even from a distance, I recognized him from the photograph Detective Ortiz had shown me earlier.

Victor Sloan, the insurance broker.

He walked toward Ashley with the calm expression of someone arriving at an appointment.

Ashley backed away from the door.

“No,” she whispered.

Victor reached into his coat.

And Gabriel, standing beside me, said the words I had been dreading.

“Emma, get down.”

The front window shattered.