I checked the initials on every page.

Everything was complete.

I placed the documents inside my leather briefcase and snapped the brass buckles shut.

The buzzer rang again, a long, angry whine that vibrated through the floorboards.

“Go to the kitchen,” I told Lila.

She did not move.

“Go,” I repeated, sharper this time.

She scrambled out of her chair, her heels clicking rapidly on the hardwood as she fled toward the back of the house.

Ethan stood up, his knees visibly shaking.

He adjusted his silk tie out of habit, but it sat crooked against his collar.

“What do we tell them?” he asked, his voice cracking.

“I do the talking,” I said.

I walked out of the dining room and headed down the carpeted stairs.

The air in the hallway felt cold.

The frosted glass of the front door showed two dark, bulky silhouettes standing on the porch.

I reached the bottom of the stairs and paused.

I took a slow breath, smoothing the front of my wool trousers.

Then I unlocked the deadbolt.

I pulled the heavy door open.