The hallway was quiet, the pale light from the windows casting long shadows on the wood panels.

I walked quickly toward the library.

Dina was standing by the glass display cases, her hands clasped tightly in front of her.

When she saw me, she stepped forward and pressed a small brass key into my hand.

“It was exactly where you said,” Dina whispered.

“Thank you, Dina,” I said, squeezing her hand.

“Emma, what is going on?” she asked, her eyes wide. “They look like they want to tear each other apart in there.”

“They do,” I said. “And they will.”

“What are you going to do?”

“I have to go to Elmwood,” I said. “My mother left something there.”

“But the meeting—”

“Keep them in that room,” I said. “If Grant or Helen tries to leave, tell Marcus. He will find a way to stall them.”

“I can do that,” Dina said, nodding determinedly.

I turned and walked toward the side exit of the building.

The rain had started again, a steady, cold drizzle that slicked the stone steps.