A sharp chime echoed in the quiet car.

My phone had finally booted up, the screen lighting up with missed calls and messages.

The text from Daniel Reyes was still there, truncated where it had cut off before.

I tapped on his name and dialed his number.

He answered on the second ring, his voice tight and frantic.

“Claire? Thank God. Where are you?”

“I’m on Route 2, heading toward the city,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady. “I just left the estate. Graham was there.”

“Did he see the letter?” Daniel asked.

“No,” I said. “But he was looking for the key. He mentioned Vance Harrison on the phone.”

There was a long pause on the line, the sound of rustling papers audible in the background.

“Claire, listen to me very carefully,” Daniel said. “I just finished tracing the wire transfers from the North Star accounts.”

“My mother’s letter said Vance Harrison is the mastermind behind the whole thing,” I told him.

“It is worse than that,” Daniel said. “The offshore accounts aren’t just in Vance’s name.”