I grabbed my purse, keeping the strap tight over my shoulder, and walked toward the back of the cafe.

The restroom was small, smelling of lavender bleach and damp paper towels.

I locked the door, bolted it, and leaned my back against the wood.

My hands were shaking as I pulled the receiver device out of my bag.

The screen was crowded with folders: *Contacts, Call Logs, Photos, WhatsApp, iMessage.*

I tapped the iMessage folder first.

The most recent conversations were at the top.

There was a contact saved simply as *L*.

I tapped the name.

The messages went back six months.

My sister’s words jumped off the screen, sharp and venomous.

*“She’s so clueless, Lucas. She actually thinks we’re going to the mountains for my birthday.”*

Lucas’s reply from three weeks ago made my stomach turn.

*“Let her think whatever she wants. Once the escrow clears on the Denver property, we are gone.”*

*“I’m setting up the Panama account under the name Melanie gave us.”*

*“Seven hundred and twenty thousand is more than enough to start over.”*