A small green light blinked in the corner of the device.

“I suggest you sign, Richard,” Arthur said.

“I have taken certain precautions before entering this house.”

“What precautions?” my mother asked, her voice rising in panic.

She looked toward the front window.

Through the sheer curtains, the street outside was dark and wet.

But there was a pair of headlights idling near the curb.

They were barely visible through the downpour.

My father noticed them too.

His eyes darted from the window back to the blue folder.

“You brought the police,” my father whispered.

“They are waiting for my signal,” Arthur said.

“If those papers are not signed in the next five minutes, I will call them in.”

“They will arrest you for grand larceny, forgery, and financial fraud.”

My father’s breathing grew heavy.

His chest rose and fell beneath his expensive wool sweater.

He looked at the pen Arthur had placed on top of the transfer forms.

“You would not do that to your own father,” he said.

His voice dropped to a harsh whisper.

“You are a Parker, Ava.”

“Not anymore,” I said.