She wiped a melted snowflake from her cheek with a trembling hand.

“He had security escort me out of the building like a common thief,” she said. “He is pinning the missing funds on me.”

“He needs a scapegoat,” Julian said, his eyes narrowed. “And you were the easiest target.”

“I am not going to prison for him,” Sabrina said.

She reached deep into the pocket of her damp coat and pulled out a small, silver digital recorder.

Her hand shook so badly she nearly dropped it on the linoleum.

“I kept this,” she said, holding it out toward me. “I started recording our conversations weeks ago.”

“Why?” I asked, refusing to step closer to her.

“Because I knew what he was capable of,” she said. “I wanted leverage in case he tried to discard me.”

She looked down at the small device in her palm.

“I have something on here from the night of December fourteenth,” she said. “The night of the blizzard.”

My heart hammered against my ribs, the sound loud in my ears.

“What is on it, Sabrina?” I asked.