My father’s voice was muffled, but his anger came through clearly.

“The neighbors are asleep,” he snapped.

“Get the files from the study drawer.”

“Which ones?” she asked.

“The blue folders,” he said.

“The ones with the offshore routing numbers.”

I squeezed Wyatt’s hand.

His grip was tight and warm.

“They’re going to destroy them,” Wyatt whispered.

“They think they can erase everything.”

On the receiver, we heard the heavy thud of footsteps on hardwood.

My father was moving fast.

“Where is Melanie?” he asked.

“In her room,” my mother replied.

“She’s packing her bags.”

“Tell her to get down here,” my father said.

“We don’t have time for her to pack her entire wardrobe.”

There was a pause, filled with the rustle of papers.

Then, the sound of metal scraping against metal.

“He’s opening the floor safe,” I said.

I knew that sound.

I had heard it through the vents when I was a child.

It was the small safe hidden beneath the rug in his study.

“What is in there, Sadie?” Wyatt asked.

“The deeds,” I said.

“And the cash he took from Arthur’s estate.”