“Evelyn,” Graham said as the first officer began to guide him toward the center aisle.

“Please, we can resolve this.”

“We can sell the townhouse in the city.”

“We can put the money back.”

“The money is gone, Graham,” I said.

“And so is the marriage.”

He stopped, his mouth open as if he wanted to say something else, but Agent Miller gave him a firm, polite nudge forward.

They began their slow walk down the aisle toward the rain-swept doorway.

Sloane watched them approach, her face pale, her hands trembling as she held her phone.

“What about me?” Sloane asked the officers as they drew near her.

“Am I under arrest?”

Agent Miller stopped and looked at her for a moment.

“Your name is in the filing, Ms. Mercer,” he said.

“But we do not have a warrant for your arrest tonight.”

“You will be contacted by the district attorney’s office regarding your deposition.”

Sloane let out a sharp, ragged breath, her shoulders sagging.

She looked at Graham, but he did not meet her eyes; he kept his gaze fixed on the stone floor.