Before she could name the person, the glass door to my office swung open.

I looked up.

Standing in the doorway was a man in a dark suit, holding a courier envelope.

“Claire Vance?” he asked.

“Yes,” I said, lowering the phone slightly.

“You’ve been served,” he said, stepping forward and dropping the heavy envelope onto my desk.

The courier turned on his heel and walked out of my office.

The heavy glass door clicked shut behind him.

I picked up the desk phone again, my fingers cold against the plastic receiver.

“Elena, I’m here,” I said.

“What happened?” she asked.

“I was just served,” I said, looking down at the thick manila envelope on my desk.

“By whom?”

“I haven’t opened it yet,” I said. “Tell me about the shell company.”

Over the line, I heard the sound of wind whipping against Elena’s car window.

“The Delaware shell company is called Blue Sky Ventures,” Elena said.

“And Patricia signed the registration?” I asked.

“Her maiden name is Patricia Sterling,” Elena said. “She used that name on the articles of incorporation, but she used her private home address in Wayzata.”