“Then you better find it,” she said.

“And if I don’t?” I asked.

There was a long pause on the line.

“You love your little electrical business, don’t you?” Megan said.

My hand froze on the steering wheel of my work van.

“What does my business have to do with this?” I asked.

“You do a lot of residential work under the table, Clara,” she said. “And I know exactly which local inspectors you’ve bypassed to get jobs done fast.”

My heart hammered against my ribs.

“I’ve never done anything unsafe,” I said.

“That doesn’t matter to the licensing board once an official complaint is filed,” she said. “It takes months to clear your name. You’d lose your license before you could prove you were innocent.”

I looked out the windshield of my van at the gray brick facade of my apartment building.

“You wouldn’t,” I said.

“Try me,” she said. “I’ll call them tomorrow morning unless you text me a confirmation that you’re sending the cash.”

She hung up.

I sat in the dark van, the cold steering wheel solid under my hands.