“Mr. Hayes,” Malcolm said. “I need you to keep your hands where I can see them.”

Before Evan could answer, Vivian’s phone began to vibrate again on the table.

The name *Cole Brantley* flashed on the screen once more.

This time, Malcolm reached out and tapped the speakerphone icon.

“Vivian? Evan?” Cole’s voice came through the speaker, sounding panicked and breathless.

“Are you there? You need to answer me right now.”

“The state police just left my shop.”

“They have the signatures, Evan.”

“They know about the forge—”

The call abruptly cut off, replaced by the sharp, metallic click of the front door lock turning from the outside.

We all turned our heads toward the entrance of the dining room.

The heavy wooden door slowly began to swing open.

Sloane Pierce stood in the doorway.

She was holding a cardboard box filled with bubble wrap and two green glass bottles.

Her keys jingled in her trembling hand as her gaze swept over the dining room.

She looked at Evan, then at Vivian, and finally at Malcolm’s silver badge.

“What is going on here?” Sloane asked, her voice dropping to a whisper.