“She had his login,” I whispered, the realization hitting me like a physical blow.

“What?” Elena asked, looking up.

“Patricia had Harrison’s administrative access to my business portal,” I said.

“How?” Elena asked.

“When we merged our office networks last year,” I said. “I gave Harrison guest administrative rights so his IT team could sync our calendars.”

“And Harrison gave those credentials to his mother,” Elena said.

“Or she just took them,” I said, remembering how Harrison always left his laptop unlocked on the kitchen island.

Elena used her pen to point at a line on the third page of the application.

It was an IP address log for the digital signature verification.

“This IP address isn’t from your office,” Elena said. “And it’s not from your home.”

“Where is it from?” I asked.

Elena pulled up her laptop and typed in the numbers quickly.

The screen reflected in her glasses, casting a blue light over her face.

“It matches the registration for the Voss family lake house in Wayzata,” she said.

The lake house.

Patricia’s sanctuary.