d of old paper and lemon polish. The walls w

rom Mr. Price. The elderly lawyer had been handling h

nstance said. Her voice was

es. He looked at the young, vibrant woman sitting across from him. "Mrs.

interrupted. Her tone wa

fresh legal pad toward him. "Very well. Ho

ed trust, the cash accounts, everything-don

ed rapidly. "All of it? Mrs. Ferguson, what abou

enny to the Mcfarlands. Not a penny to t

ofessional training kicked in, a

vy Montblanc pen. She pressed the nib to the paper. Her hand was perfectly steady. She signed her na

treet, the cold air hit her face. She took a deep breath. A massive,

Ferguson estate, Mrs. Fos

y. He asked to see you," the

all and pushed the heavy oa

ve desk, reading a legal brief. H

d. You're coming," Arch said. It

refusing. But then she thought about Doretta. She tho

ignited in

her voice matchi

at her quick compliance. He seemed to search her face for a

d and walked ou

he hallway, her phone

ut. The caller

er. The boy who had drained her bank accounts, used her as a shie

bed in her temples. She pressed the gr

e asked, her v

c, high-pitched with panic. In the background, Constance could

e. Please come. They'

te. For twenty-four years, she had cleaned up his me

ess," she said. H

the coat closet in the foyer and pu

e door was slightly ajar. Arch was st

rch asked, h

arms into the coat.

matter,"

nt door and walked

ose. His jaw tightened, and his index finger began to tap against th