The elevator chimed, and the doors opened into the lobby.

A man in a dark grey suit was standing by the glass entrance doors, holding a clipboard and looking around.

As I walked past him, he stepped into my path.

“Excuse me,” the man said. “Are you Avery Collins?”

I stopped, looking at the official-looking badge pinned to his lapel.

“Yes,” I said.

“I’m an investigator with the state regulatory board,” he said, pulling a folded document from his pocket. “We need to talk about the oak chest in your husband’s storage unit.”

“Yes,” I said.

“I’m an investigator with the state regulatory board,” he said, pulling a folded document from his pocket.

“We need to talk about the oak chest in your husband’s storage unit.”

Jerome stepped forward, his leather briefcase held firmly at his side.

“I am Mrs. Collins’s attorney,” Jerome said. “What is this regarding?”

The investigator, whose badge read Agent Miller, tapped his clipboard against his thigh.

“We executed a search warrant on Scott Collins’s off-site storage locker this morning,” Miller said.

“We found several corporate ledgers and hard drives belonging to his former employer.”