She had her coat on, and her handbag was sitting open on the floor beside her chair.

She was typing rapidly on a silver laptop, her face illuminated by the blue light of the screen.

Her fingers were trembling.

I pushed the glass door open.

She jumped, her hand flying to her throat as she let out a sharp breath.

“Arden,” she said, her voice high and tight.

“You should not be in here,” I said.

She tried to close the laptop, but I stepped forward and placed my hand flat on the lid.

“The police are downstairs, Bianca,” I said.

“They just put Graham in the back of a patrol car.”

She went pale, her eyes darting toward the window that looked out over the Dallas skyline.

“I don’t know what you are talking about,” she said, though her voice lacked conviction.

“I am just finishing some end-of-month reports.”

“On an unauthorized terminal?” I asked.

“Using Graham’s master encryption key?”

She pulled her hands back from the keyboard and placed them in her lap.

“He told me it was legal,” she whispered.