They swiped back and forth with a rhythmic, scraping sound.

“We need to find the real records,” Alexander said.

“The ones Margaret was talking about.”

“If we can find the original transaction logs before my mother deletes them, we can prove she was the one who signed.”

“How do we do that?” I asked.

“Margaret has access,” he said.

“But she needs my personal encryption key.”

“It’s on a physical drive in my office at the penthouse.”

“We can’t go there,” I said.

“The police are probably already waiting.”

“The press certainly is.”

“I have a duplicate,” Alexander said.

“In the safe at the Connecticut house.”

“We just have to get there first.”

I looked in the rearview mirror again.

The black SUV was still behind us, but now there was another car next to it.

A dark sedan with tinted windows.

They were moving closer.

The traffic was beginning to slow down as we approached the state line.

The rain was coming down harder now, turning the road into a gray sheet.

“They’re going to try to box us in,” I said.