“Look at the signature,” I said.

She leaned closer under the green desk lamp.

“It is a very good forgery,” she said.

“I never signed it,” I said, my voice cracking.

“He is planning to kill me, Marisol,” I whispered.

She took a deep breath and leaned back in her high-backed chair.

“We knew he was desperate for money, but this is a different level of threat,” she said.

“How did you know where to look for this?” she asked.

I pulled out my phone and showed her the anonymous text message.

The message listed the exact location inside the lining of the suitcase.

Marisol stared at the phone number on the screen.

She turned to her computer and typed the number into a private directory.

“I recognize this number,” Marisol said, pointing at the monitor.

“Who does it belong to?” I asked.

“Marcus Vance,” she said.

“Who is Marcus Vance?” I asked.

“He was Derek’s business partner three years ago,” Marisol said.

“Derek defrauded him of half a million dollars and left Marcus bankrupt,” she explained.

“Marcus has been trying to build a federal fraud case against Derek ever since.”