Diane had told me the district attorney was already preparing the formal indictment for grand larceny.

The forged loan documents from the local credit union were enough to secure a conviction.

But today was not about his ruin.

Today was about my beginning.

I heard a car door slam in the visitor parking lot below.

I leaned over the railing.

A black sedan had pulled up near the main gate.

Two men in dark suits stepped out of the vehicle.

They were not local police.

They carried federal badges on their belts.

One of them looked up toward the balcony and saw me.

He held up a black leather wallet containing his credentials.

“Vivian Ashford?” he called out.

“Yes,” I said.

“We need you to identify a signature on a federal banking document,” he said.

He held up a manila folder.

“We just came from Grant’s office.”

My phone in my pocket began to vibrate continuously.

It was Grant’s number flashing on the screen.

I let the phone ring in my pocket until it stopped.

Then it began to ring again.