The medical files had been kept in a locked drawer in that desk.

Only two keys existed for that drawer.

One was on my key ring.

The other had been in my father’s safe-deposit box, to which only I had the key after his passing.

I looked up at Evan, my eyes narrowing as the pieces began to align in my mind.

“Where did you get those files, Evan?” I asked, my voice firmer than I expected.

Evan laughed, a short, dry sound that echoed off the hardwood floor.

“Does it matter?” he asked.

“They are real, Claire.”

“Your signature is on the release forms.”

“You broke into the estate study,” I said, staring directly into his blue eyes.

“The estate is locked, Evan.”

“The probate court sealed the house three weeks ago.”

Vivian cleared her throat, adjusting her pearl necklace with a swift, nervous movement.

“The house belongs to the family, Claire,” Vivian said.

“Evan had every right to retrieve his personal belongings.”

“My medical records are not his personal belongings,” I said.

Lydia glanced down at her watch, then back to Evan’s phone.