Attached was a photograph taken from a distance, showing Gabriel and me getting into the car just seconds ago.

Beneath the image was a single line of text.

“Look at the bottom of the ledger again.”

I stared at the screen, my heart beginning to race.

“Gabriel,” I said, my voice barely a whisper.

I reached into my bag and pulled out the copy of the ledger we had made.

I flipped to the very last page, past the entries I had read in court.

There, in the bottom corner of the binding, was a small, embossed seal I hadn’t noticed before.

It wasn’t the Bennett Foundation logo.

It was the seal of the city’s largest private bank, the one that held the escrow accounts for the entire municipal development project.

The car pulled out of the garage and into the bright Chicago sunlight, but the warmth did not reach me.

My phone buzzed again in my hand.

A new message appeared on the screen, the words typing out one by one.

“The money didn’t stop with your father.”

“And the man who took it is closer than you think.”