“He is desperate,” Rachel said, her voice dropping to a whisper. “He knows the forensic audit will ruin him if it goes deep enough.”

“I need to face him,” I said.

“I’ll be at your house in an hour,” she said.

Rachel arrived at four o’clock, her coat damp from the coastal drizzle.

She hugged Lily and Ethan, ushering them toward the kitchen with promises of baking chocolate chip cookies.

I kissed my children goodbye, holding them a little longer than usual.

Their laughter echoed from the kitchen as I shut the front door.

The drive to the city took three hours.

The quiet pines and salt air faded, replaced by concrete overpasses and the glare of brake lights.

The air grew heavy with smog and the exhaust of commuter traffic.

I checked into a small hotel near the financial district.

I slept poorly, waking every hour to the sound of sirens and distant traffic.

At eight-thirty the next morning, I met Robert in the lobby of the Mercer Development building.

The lobby was a towering atrium of glass and black granite.