“Clara was there when the will was signed, two days after she supposedly fled the state.”

“She was forced out,” Marco said. “Probably blackmailed by Marissa.”

“Find her, Marco,” Ryker said, his voice quiet but commanding.

“Find her before Marissa does.”

Marco nodded once. “I’ll start with her last known bank records in Wisconsin.”

He turned and left the room, his footsteps fading down the hall.

Sarah and her associates began packing their files back into the leather cases.

“I’ll keep working on the custody defense,” Sarah said, slipping her coat back on.

“But if Marissa files a kidnapping charge, we will have a hard time keeping the police away.”

“She won’t risk the police digging into her finances,” Ryker said.

Sarah nodded grimly, then led her team out of the study.

I walked over to the window, looking out into the dark, rainy Chicago night.

The iron gates at the end of the long driveway were closed again.

The wind was whipping the bare branches of the oak trees.

“If Marissa realizes we have the unredacted will, she will come here,” I said.