“They are evidence of a federal crime, Mr. Vance,” Reyes said, turning to face him. “And right now, your wife is cooperating with our agents at your primary residence.”

Walter took a step back, his boots slipping on the icy driveway. “Patricia wouldn’t say a word to you.”

“She already did,” Reyes said. “She gave us the combination to the basement safe. She wanted to save herself.”

Walter’s mouth opened, but no sound came out.

“The prosecutors are already drafting the paperwork,” Reyes continued, his voice steady. “By tomorrow morning, every asset tied to your name, your wife’s name, and Logan’s name will be frozen.”

“You can’t do that,” Walter whispered. “That’s my life’s work.”

“It’s Jake’s trust fund,” Reyes corrected. “And whatever is left of it is being seized to pay back the estate.”

The wind groaned through the trees, carrying the scent of pine and exhaust fumes.

Just then, a marshal jogged back from the tree line where the gunshot had run out.

He was carrying a heavy silver briefcase and a discarded hunting rifle.