The sentence read, “The will they have is a decoy, and the real one is in the lower vault.” My breath caught. Mateo held the lantern while I climbed down the ladder into a narrow concrete room, dry and cold, with a steel cabinet bolted to the far wall. The brass key turned smoothly. Inside lay a sealed will, a small recorder, and a ledger in Walter’s handwriting. On the top page, he had written, “Marcus took from the company, and I can prove it.”

I pressed the recorder’s button, and Walter’s tired voice filled the room. “Josephine, if you are listening, then they have already shown you who they are.” Then I heard a second sound, a car engine rolling up the gravel road above. Lucia peered through the floorboards and whispered, “Josephine, a black SUV just stopped outside.” Heavy footsteps crossed the porch, and a voice I knew too well called out, “Mother, we need to talk.”