“We have a search warrant for the residence,” Drummond said.

“But the safe is digital, and we don’t have the code.”

My phone buzzed again in my hand.

It was an incoming call from an unknown number.

I answered it and put it to my ear.

“Emerson,” a voice said on the other end.

It was Helen.

The background noise was the crackle of a police radio and the heavy hum of an engine.

She must have been allowed her one call from the back of the transport.

“I am listening,” I said.

“I have the documents,” Helen said, her voice shaking but still carrying a thread of her old malice.

“The real ones. Not the copies I showed the lawyers.”

“Where are they, Helen?” I asked.

“They are not in the safe,” she said.

“If you want them, you will have to drop the charges.”

“I don’t have the power to drop federal charges,” I said.

“Then you will never see them,” she said.

“And everything your grandmother wanted for you will burn.”

The line went dead with a sharp click.