“I managed to hide this before Ryan took my purse,” she said.

“It has the complete set of double ledgers.”

“The wire transfers to the offshore accounts.”

“Even the bribe payments to the local officials.”

I took the cold plastic drive and slipped it deep into my pocket.

“You did well, sweetheart,” I said.

“Now we are going to walk out of here.”

We stepped out of the bedroom into the long hallway.

The house was incredibly quiet now.

The only sound was the rain lashing against the glass skylight above us.

I led Emily toward the main staircase.

As we approached the landing, the heavy front door downstairs clicked open.

I heard the wet, heavy footsteps of someone entering the foyer.

I pulled Emily back into the shadow of a large marble pillar.

I peered down over the ornate wooden railing.

Sheriff Daniel Mercer was standing on the white marble floor.

His yellow plastic slicker was dripping pools of water onto the rug.

He held his service revolver in his right hand, pointed toward the ceiling.

Charles Whitmore was standing near the coat rack, pointing up the stairs.