“Ethan’s bail hearing is at two o’clock,” he added.

“His mother’s associates are already posting the bond.”

He turned on his heel and walked out, his leather shoes squeaking on the linoleum.

The heavy wooden door swung shut behind him.

I looked at the digital clock on the wall.

It was one-fifteen.

“We don’t have fifteen minutes,” I told Rachel.

“He’s going to try to empty the accounts the moment he steps out of that courthouse.”

Rachel walked back to my bedside.

“What do we do?” she asked.

“My purse,” I said. “Where is it?”

“The police brought it from the house,” Rachel said. “It’s in the closet.”

She went to the narrow metal closet and retrieved my black leather handbag.

“Open the inside zipper pocket,” I said.

My chest throbbed under the bandages, each breath a sharp reminder of the oil.

Rachel pulled out a small brass key on a silver ring.

“Is this it?” she asked.

“Yes,” I said. “That is the key to my personal safety deposit box.”

“It is at the downtown branch of the First Metropolitan Bank,” I added.