“You didn’t just trespass, Evan.”

“You broke into a sealed estate to steal documents.”

Evan didn’t answer me.

In the background of his call, I heard a low, anxious murmur.

It was Sloane’s voice, asking him what was wrong.

“Where are you?” I asked him.

“Are you at her place?”

“We’re coming over.”

“Lydia wants to show your mother the warrant Malcolm is writing up.”

I ended the call before he could speak.

Lydia accelerated down the winding, tree-lined road.

The headlights cut through the heavy midnight fog of the valley.

Sloane Pierce’s house sat on a secluded hill overlooking the town.

It was a modern structure of glass and dark concrete, glowing with warm, expensive light.

We pulled into the gravel driveway.

Malcolm parked his cruiser behind Lydia’s car, keeping his emergency lights dark for the moment.

“We go in quiet,” Malcolm said, his hand resting on his utility belt.

“I have the emergency probate order in my pocket.”

“He has no legal right to those files, and he certainly has no right to be in possession of Hayes estate assets.”

I opened the passenger door.