“I don’t know exactly,” Sloane said. “Silverware. Heavy gold frames. Velvet bags.”

“My mother’s jewelry,” I said, my voice barely audible.

“Vivian said Claire didn’t deserve any of it,” Sloane whispered. “She said the Hayes family name belonged to them now.”

Evan closed his eyes, leaning his head back against the wall.

“Where are those boxes now?” Malcolm asked.

Sloane hesitated, looking down at her manicured nails.

“They are here,” she said.

“Where in this house?” Malcolm pressed.

“In the locked storage room off the garage,” Sloane said. “And some are in the guest bedroom upstairs.”

Malcolm nodded, his expression grim.

“I don’t have search authority for the rest of the house on this specific probate warrant,” Malcolm said to Lydia.

“But we have probable cause now,” Lydia said. “With Ms. Pierce’s confession.”

“I’ll call the station,” Malcolm said, reaching for the radio on his shoulder. “We’ll get a judge to sign an emergency search warrant for the entire premises.”

“No,” Evan said, his voice flat. “No, don’t do that.”

Nobody paid attention to him.

Malcolm spoke into his radio, his voice low and professional as he requested backup and a search warrant extension.