The dry, paper-thin skin around his eyes twitched as he made his calculations.

“Wait outside for one minute, Detective,” Richard said, his voice barely above a whisper.

“We are executing a warrant, Mr. Carter,” Miller replied, his hand resting near his belt.

“One minute,” Richard repeated, his hand reaching out to grip the edge of the mahogany desk. “My associate is drawing up a settlement.”

Miller looked at me, raising an eyebrow in silent inquiry.

I nodded once, signaling that I would allow it, though my grip on the brass door handle did not loosen.

Miller stepped back into the hallway, but he did not close the door, leaving the heavy silence of the corridor open between us.

Richard turned his head slowly toward me, his fingers tapping a rhythmic, nervous beat against the dark wood of the desk.

“Three million,” Richard said, his voice flat and devoid of its usual patronizing warmth.

“What did you say?” Margaret whispered, her eyes widening.

“I will buy out your share of this house, Emily,” Richard said, ignoring his wife entirely. “Directly. Today.”