She took a step toward me, her heels clicking on the floor, but her phone rang again in her hand.

She looked down at the screen.

It was Graham.

She answered it quickly, pressing it to her ear.

“Graham, Jocelyn is here,” she said, her voice shaking. “She is standing right in the lobby.”

I could hear Graham’s frantic voice through the phone again, louder this time.

I turned and began to walk slowly toward the main exit of the club.

The Texas sun was hot as I stepped out onto the portico, the heat radiating off the concrete driveway.

My phone buzzed in my hand.

I looked down at the screen and saw a notification.

A call was coming in from Graham.

I let it ring twice before I swiped the screen to answer.

“Jocelyn,” Graham’s voice came through the speaker, breathless and tight with fear. “Jocelyn, please tell me you didn’t do this.”

“Do what, Graham?” I asked, my voice calm as I reached my car.

“My accounts,” he stammered. “The business line. The payroll account. Everything is locked. I can’t even pay the lease on the office.”