“I’m in the study now,” Graham said, his voice dropping to a harsh whisper as he pressed the phone to his ear.

“No, she’s not here. Her car is in the driveway, but the house is completely dark.”

He listened for a moment, wiping his brow with the back of his hand.

“I’m looking for the key, Vance,” Graham said.

My heart hammered against my ribs at the name.

“Margaret swears the old lady kept a duplicate,” Graham continued, his voice tight. “If Rachel gets her hands on the ledger before we clear the North Star accounts, we are done.”

He paused, listening to the frantic, muffled voice on the other end of the line.

“I know what is at stake,” Graham snapped. “Just keep Sloane quiet. She is talking too much to the press about the foundation’s new direction, and it is drawing attention.”

He hung up without saying goodbye, muttering an oath.

He turned back to the desk, his flashlight beam swinging dangerously close to my hiding spot.

I squeezed my eyes shut, my hand clenching the fabric of my coat.