“That is enough, Derek,” Arthur said.

“Get out of my way, Father,” Derek said.

“Do not speak to me in that tone,” Arthur said. “You are in serious trouble, and you need to start thinking about how you are going to explain this to the police.”

“The police?” Eleanor cried. “Arthur, you can’t let them arrest him.”

“If the district attorney has these documents, it is out of our hands,” Arthur said.

Derek’s phone began to ring again in his hand.

He looked down at the screen.

It was the office of the district attorney.

The phone buzzed against his palm, the vibration making a dry, scratching sound in the quiet room.

Derek did not answer it.

He stared at the screen, his thumb hovering over the glass, before he slid the phone into his trouser pocket.

“Answer it, Derek,” Arthur said.

His voice was lower now, heavy with a weight that seemed to press down on the entire room.

“It is probably a automated call,” Derek said.

He tried to laugh, but the sound caught in his throat, dry and thin.