Mark’s chest heaved as he looked between me and Ana.

He was cornered, but he looked like an animal ready to bolt or fight.

“The money in the offshore accounts,” Mark said, his voice dropping to a low growl. “It’s gone. I moved it.”

“No, you didn’t,” I said.

He looked back at me.

“Abigail put a freeze clause on those funds twenty years ago,” I said. “She knew you’d try to drain them.”

The realization seemed to hit him physically.

His shoulders slumped slightly.

“She planned this,” he whispered. “From the very beginning.”

“She knew who you were,” I said. “She wanted to make sure the victims got their lives back.”

I felt a cold breeze from the open back door.

The smell of damp earth and redwood trees filtered into the musty room.

The deputy stepped forward, his boots heavy on the floorboards.

“Mr. Darcy, keep your hands where I can see them,” the deputy said.

Mark didn’t move.

He looked at the window, then at the hallway.

His hand hovered near his jacket pocket.

“Don’t do it, Mark,” Ana warned.