I placed my hand on the wooden banister and began to climb, one step at a time.

I pressed my back against the cold plaster wall at the top of the stairs.

The floorboards beneath my sneakers stayed silent.

The light from the study door stretched across the Persian rug in a thin, yellow line.

My father’s voice was dry and raspy, a sound I had known my entire life.

“I told you, Gavin, I’m looking for it now,” Arthur said.

There was a pause.

“No, the safe in the study is empty,” my father continued, his voice dropping to a harsh whisper. “Evelyn must have cleaned it out before she staged her disappearance.”

I held my breath, my chest tightening so hard it hurt.

“If the police start auditing the Cumberland Avenue accounts, they’ll see the transfers,” Arthur said.

He paced inside the room, his heavy leather soles clicking on the hardwood.

“I did my part,” Arthur said, his voice rising with anger. “I authorized the electronic signatures from my office. I routed the three million from the flagship kitchen’s capital fund directly into your shell account in the Caymans.”