“It has a triple-encrypted hardware key,” I said.

“I know,” Arthur said. “The safe locked down permanently. We had to drill it. The heat destroyed the hard drives inside.”

I felt a small, cold spark of satisfaction in my chest, but I kept my face blank.

“That’s unfortunate,” I said.

“It was stupid,” Arthur corrected. “I don’t tolerate stupidity. You know that.”

“I do,” I said. “That’s why I left.”

Arthur looked at me for a long moment, the silence between us filled only by the pounding of the rain against the roof.

He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees.

“I didn’t come here to argue about the past,” he said.

“Then why are you here?” I asked.

“To bring you back,” he said.

I didn’t move.

My fingers remained curled around the trigger guard of the revolver.

“I’m retired, Arthur,” I said.

“You’re thirty-two, Clara,” he said, his voice dropping an octave. “You don’t retire from this. You either run until you run out of road, or you die in a ditch. This place isn’t a retirement. It’s a hiding spot.”