“You made your choices years ago,” I added.

The grandfather clock in the hallway began to chime the hour.

The heavy, deep tones echoed through the high ceilings of the Buckhead mansion.

Outside, the blue and red lights of a police cruiser swept across the wet lawn.

Another vehicle was pulling up the long, winding driveway.

I watched the headlights cut through the dark Georgia pines.

Arthur began stacking the papers back into his leather briefcase.

“The warrants are fully executed,” Arthur said to Vance.

“The assets have been frozen as of five minutes ago,” he added.

Patricia’s hand twitched, her fingers brushing the edge of her expensive purse.

She looked at the phone on the console table.

It was silent now, but the screen remained lit, reflecting off the dark wood.

The front door opened again, and another agent stepped into the hallway.

He carried a cardboard box filled with manila folders.

“We have the files from the safe in the study,” the agent said.

Patricia did not flinch, but her jaw tightened.

She knew what was in that safe.

I knew what was in it, too.