“They wanted to destroy this,” I said, holding up the book. “And they wanted to warn us.”

“Explain,” Roman said, stepping closer.

“If they wanted to kill me, they would have thrown a grenade through the window,” I said. “This was a suppression tactic. They wanted us to run, to scramble, to abandon the files.”

Roman’s dark eyes fixed on my face.

“You are assuming a great deal for a flower girl,” he said.

“I know how people behave when they are trying to hide a theft,” I said.

“What theft?” Declan asked, his brow furrowing.

I laid the ledger on the undamaged corner of the desk.

I opened it to the section where the page had been torn out.

“Before the shooting started, I was looking at the ledger entries from three years ago,” I said. “And I noticed something else.”

I took out my phone, wiping the dust from the screen, and opened the photos of the digital backups.

“Look at the dry-cleaning accounts for the Vescari family,” I said to Roman. “Then look at the construction payrolls for the Rourke family.”