He was sitting alone at the table, his head in his hands.

The bailiff was standing over him, waiting for his passport.

I turned my back on him and followed Malcolm down the narrow side hallway.

The air in the back corridor smelled of old paper and floor wax.

We walked quickly, our footsteps echoing off the tiled walls.

“What about Cole Brantley?” I asked Malcolm as we reached the heavy steel exit door.

“Brantley is cooperating,” Malcolm said, pushing the door open.

“He realized he was facing federal charges and started talking.”

“He gave us the location of the remaining cases of your father’s wine.”

A cold draft of rain-soaked air hit my face as we stepped out into the alley.

The sky was gray and heavy with clouds.

“Where are they?” I asked.

“They’re stored in a climate-controlled warehouse near the docks,” Malcolm said.

“We’re going there now to secure them before Evan’s associates can move them.”

Lydia looked at her watch.

“I need to file the emergency injunction for Magnolia Hill,” she said.

“Go with Malcolm, Claire.”

“Get your family’s history back.”