“We have been monitoring his accounts for three months,” Special Agent Vance continued.

“We know about the offshore transfers.”

“What do you need me to do?” I asked, my voice barely a whisper.

“Keep the meeting,” she said.

“Act as though you are going to hand over the funds.”

“We will be in position before they arrive.”

I thanked her and hung up the phone.

The kitchen was cold.

I sat in the dark for a long time, watching the rain beat against the windowpane.

***

The next morning, the sky was a heavy, bruised gray.

A sharp wind rattled the panes of the dining room window.

I sat at the oak table, a single blue folder resting on the polished wood in front of me.

At ten o’clock, the sound of a car door slamming echoed from the driveway.

A moment later, heavy footsteps sounded on the front porch.

The doorbell rang, three short, aggressive bursts.

I stood up, smoothed my black trousers, and walked to the door.

When I opened it, Ethan stood there, flanked by his mother and brother.