“You were going to leave me here to take the blame,” she said.

Her voice was trembling, but it wasn’t from sadness.

“You were going to let me sign the final compliance report while you were in Nassau,” she said.

“That’s not true,” Graham said.

“It is on the schedule,” I said. “The final compliance report requires Bianca’s digital key. He left it on her desk with a note.”

I looked at Arthur Vance, who was still standing by the door.

“The note is in the blue folder,” I said. “It’s in Graham’s handwriting.”

Arthur took three slow steps into the room and stopped behind Elliot’s chair.

“We need to secure his phone,” Arthur said.

“Yes,” Elliot said.

He looked at Graham, his eyes empty of the warmth I had seen there for fifteen years of dinners and charity galas.

“Give them the phone, Graham,” Elliot said.

Graham did not move.

His hand remained clenched on the back of the chair.

The sun outside the boardroom window was high now, casting a bright, harsh light across the glass table.