Two men in dark suits stood under the porch light.

The taller one held a gold badge in a black leather wallet.

“Clara Lawson?” he asked.

“Yes,” I said.

“I am Special Agent Miller, Internal Revenue Service, Criminal Investigation.”

He did not look like a man who made social calls.

“We have a warrant for the arrest of Ethan Lawson,” he said.

“And a search warrant for these premises.”

A second vehicle, a black SUV, pulled up to the curb behind them.

Two more people in windbreakers got out, carrying empty cardboard boxes.

“He is upstairs,” I said.

I stepped aside to let them enter the foyer.

The hallway suddenly felt very small.

Agent Miller walked past me, his leather shoes squeaking slightly on the polished floorboards.

“Is there anyone else in the house?” he asked.

“His assistant, Lila Parker,” I replied.

“And my legal counsel is on his way.”

This was a lie, but I needed Arthur Vance here immediately.

I pulled out my phone as the second agent headed up the stairs.

I dialed Arthur’s private line.

It rang three times before he answered.