“But I will tell them the truth now.”

Marisol reached the door of the conference room and opened it.

Before she could step out, her assistant met her in the hallway.

The assistant looked pale, holding a cell phone in his hand.

“Marisol,” the assistant said, his voice carrying clearly into the quiet room.

“What is it, David?” Marisol asked.

“We have a problem,” the assistant said.

He handed the phone to Marisol.

“The state police just pulled up to the main gate of Blackthorn Ridge.”

My heart gave a sudden, hard thud against my ribs.

Graham turned toward the window, his face pale as he looked down at the driveway.

Outside, blue lights were flashing against the ancient stone pillars of the entrance.

Marisol stared at the screen of her assistant’s phone.

Her thumb slid across the glass, her manicured nail clicking softly.

“This is unacceptable,” Marisol said.

She looked up, her gaze bypassing Graham entirely to land on me.

“My name does not appear in police reports,” Marisol said.

Graham took a step toward her, his hands raised in a gesture of appeal.