He had planned to tear it down to build a tennis court.

I closed the folder and took it in my hand.

When I walked back into the foyer, Patricia was whispering to Thomas.

She was leaning in close, her hand on his sleeve.

“I can tell you where the rest of the files are,” she said, her voice frantic. “He kept a ledger. A black book in the floorboards under his closet.”

Thomas did not pull away, but his expression remained hard.

“We already have the digital files, Patricia,” he said.

“But the physical receipts,” she urged. “He kept them. To protect himself from Juliette. He didn’t trust her either.”

I stopped in the middle of the foyer.

“The closet?” I asked.

Patricia turned to me, nodding quickly.

“Yes, in the master bedroom,” she said. “Under the loose board near the shoe rack. He has the original bank statements from the Swiss account.”

She took a step toward me, her hands outstretched.

“I can show you,” she said. “I’ll help you, Claire. I only did what he told me to do. He’s my son, I didn’t have a choice.”