At seven in the morning, the fog was still thick over the Maine harbor.

The grey light made the cheap wood paneling of the room look damp and old.

I made a cup of instant coffee in a paper cup using the small plastic machine on the counter.

My phone rang on the bedside table, startling me so badly I spilled a drop of hot water on my hand.

It was Lydia Monroe.

“Elena,” Lydia said, her voice crisp and professional. “Are you somewhere safe?”

“Yes,” I said, wiping my hand on my jeans. “We’re in Maine.”

“Good. Keep it that way. We have a major development.”

I took a sip of the bitter coffee, waiting. “What happened?”

“The board at Vanguard Crest found out about the subpoenas,” Lydia said.

“How?” I asked. “I thought we were still drafting them.”

“Martin Bell tried to file an emergency motion to block them late last night,” Lydia explained. “To do that, he had to notify the firm’s general counsel.”

“So the partners know everything now?”

“They know enough,” Lydia said. “The subpoenas specifically target the offshore shell companies Julian used to hide his assets.”