“I was in the hospital, sedated, with third-degree burns,” Sarah said. “He was clean-shaven, polite, and cooperative.”

She looked at Marisol.

“By the time I was discharged, the case was closed,” Sarah said. “He had already vanished.”

Marisol pulled the folder closer to her side of the booth.

She began flipping through the pages with practiced speed.

“This is the exact same pattern,” Marisol said. “The same entity structure, the same insurance carrier group.”

She looked up at me, her eyes sharp.

“Elena, the policy Derek had you sign for the condo art collection was underwritten by a subsidiary of this same firm,” Marisol said.

“He used the same blueprint,” I said.

“Yes,” Marisol said. “Only this time, he got greedy and tried to do it in Miami.”

Sarah reached into her purse and pulled out a small flash drive.

“On this drive are the digital copies of his bank signatures from twelve years ago,” Sarah said. “And the emails he sent me before the fire.”

She set the drive on top of the folder.

“He used the alias Derek Vance back then,” Sarah said. “His real middle name.”