“They found something else in the files, Evelyn.”

“Something Ethan didn’t know about.”

“What?” I asked.

Paul reached into his pocket and pulled out a small black flash drive.

“The offshore accounts,” Paul said.

“They weren’t just used to pay Brenner.”

“They were used to fund a project that Mary Grace was working on before she left.”

I stared at him, the hot coffee burning my fingers through the paper cup.

“What are you saying, Paul?” I asked.

“Mary didn’t just leave Chicago five years ago,” Paul said.

“She was paid to leave.”

“And the signature on the authorization form…”

Paul paused, his eyes darting toward the elevator doors.

“Whose signature was it?” I asked.

“It was Ethan’s,” Paul whispered.

The elevator doors behind us slid open with a soft chime.

A security guard walked out, his keys jingling on his belt.

Paul grabbed my arm, his grip tight and cold.

“We need to talk to Ethan,” Paul said. “Now.”

“Before the police find the rest of the files.”

I looked at the coffee cups in my hands, the steam rising into the cold air of the corridor.