Marisol took the drive and dropped it into her briefcase.

“This changes everything,” Marisol said. “This is not just a domestic dispute anymore.”

“What does this mean for his criminal trial?” I asked.

“The state attorney is currently prosecuting him for third-degree domestic assault and arson,” Marisol said.

She leaned in, her voice dropping to a sharp whisper.

“If we present this to the district attorney’s office, we can prove intent and prior acts,” Marisol said.

“They can upgrade the charges,” I said.

“Yes,” Marisol said. “To grand larceny, systematic insurance fraud, and attempted murder.”

Sarah looked toward the glass doors of the diner.

“He is dangerous, Elena,” Sarah said. “If he knows I am here, he will not stop.”

“He doesn’t know,” I said. “He thinks you are gone forever.”

“He has eyes everywhere,” Sarah said. “His sister, Stephanie, has been calling my brother’s office.”

My breath hitched.

“Stephanie?” I asked.

“She called twice last week,” Sarah said. “Asking if anyone had requested archival records on Derek Vance.”

“She is helping him cover his tracks,” Marisol said.