“My father built everything we have,” I said. “And you are nothing but a thief.”

The sound of distant sirens began to echo through the foggy valley.

The blue and red lights began to flash against the wet windowpanes of the dining room.

Sloane sank onto the sofa, burying her face in her hands.

“I’m going to jail,” she whispered.

“You should have thought about that before you let him store my mother’s heirlooms in your house,” I said.

Lydia stood next to me, her presence reassuring and solid.

“We have enough to freeze every single one of Evan’s accounts by tomorrow morning,” Lydia murmured to me.

“And Vivian?” I asked.

“She’s an accessory to grand larceny,” Lydia said. “The police will be paying her a visit tonight.”

Evan looked up, his eyes wild.

“Leave my mother out of this, Claire,” he hissed.

“She put herself in this, Evan,” I said.

Malcolm walked back into the room, adjusting his belt.

“Backup is arriving,” Malcolm said. “And the judge is processing the warrant now.”

He looked at Sloane.