I slid my thumb across the screen to answer the call.

“Evelyn,” a voice said, low and distorted through a scrambler.

“Who is this?” I asked, keeping my voice quiet.

“You think you’ve secured the threat,” the voice said. “But Vanessa was only the broker.”

My grip on the phone tightened.

“What do you want?” I whispered.

“Look in the side pocket of Vanessa’s leather bag,” the voice said. “Before the evidence team logs it.”

The line went dead.

I stared at the screen, my heart pounding against my ribs as the ambulance turned onto the highway.

I looked down at the floor of the ambulance.

Vanessa’s black leather handbag sat near my mud-stained boots.

I had grabbed it from the snow when we secured the perimeter of the cabin.

The paramedic was busy adjusting Lily’s oxygen monitor, his back turned to me.

I leaned forward and pulled the heavy brass zipper of the bag.

Inside, the smell of expensive French perfume and damp leather drifted up.

I reached past the lipstick, the designer sunglasses, and the gold-plated compact.