He pulled off his leather gloves and tucked them into his pocket.

Chloe shrank back against the kitchen island, her fingers gripping the marble edge so hard her knuckles turned white.

“Anne,” the man said, his voice deep and gravelly.

“Who are you?” I asked, keeping my voice as steady as I could.

“My name is Miller,” he said. “I think you already know who hired me.”

He held up the thick manila envelope, then laid it flat on the entry table.

“Lucas wanted me to find things he could use against you in a divorce,” Miller said.

He looked at Chloe, then back at me.

“But I don’t like being lied to, and I don’t like being used to cover up a felony.”

My phone vibrated in my palm again, the screen flashing the Palm Springs area code.

I swiped the screen and put the call on speakerphone.

“Anne?” a woman’s voice came through the speaker, breathless and sharp.

“Melanie?” I asked.

“They’re here,” Melanie Harper said, her voice shaking but resolute.

“The police are at the outer gate right now.”