“You have Thomas,” Laura said, nodding toward the kitchen. “And you have the truth.”

Thomas walked into the room, wearing a pressed gray suit that smelled of cedar chest.

He looked older than his sixty years, but his posture was straight.

“The lawyer is waiting,” Thomas said.

We drove downtown in silence.

The law offices of Vance & Associates were located on the twentieth floor of a glass tower.

The lobby smelled of expensive floor wax and old paper.

Helen Vance met us at the glass doors.

She was a tall woman with silver hair pulled back into a tight bun.

“Ryan and his mother are already here,” Helen said, her voice calm and businesslike. “They are in the main conference room with their counsel, Mr. Henderson.”

“Is Margaret allowed to be in there?” I asked.

“Not for the deposition itself,” Helen said. “I’ll have her removed before we begin.”

We walked down a long hallway lined with abstract paintings.

Through the glass wall of the conference room, I saw them.

Ryan was sitting at the massive mahogany table, typing on his phone.