Richard Hale arrived at Corsini Holdings the next morning carrying a leather briefcase and the confidence of a man who had spent twenty-five years making other people's problems disappear.

He was fifty-five, silver-haired, impeccably dressed, and entirely too comfortable in Julian's office.

Sadie disliked him immediately.

Not because he looked sinister.

Because he looked reassuring.

The kind of man who could convince your grandmother to sign away her house while explaining that he was protecting her.

"Julian," Richard said warmly. "I understand there's been some confusion."

Julian remained behind his desk.

"Sit down."

Richard glanced at Sadie.

"And you must be Miss Quinn."

She didn't offer her hand.

"Depends who's asking."

Richard smiled.

"Your uncle was quite a remarkable young man."

Sadie felt her stomach tighten.

"You knew Daniel?"

"Very well."

"Then you know what happened to him."

Richard's smile faded.

"I'm afraid Daniel made some unfortunate decisions."

Julian leaned forward.

"Explain."

Richard opened his briefcase.

He removed a folder and placed it on the desk.

Inside were photocopies of shipping manifests, bank transfers, and signed authorization forms.

Sadie recognized Daniel's signature.

Her throat went dry.

"What is this?"

"Evidence," Richard said gently, "that your uncle wasn't quite the innocent man you've been led to believe."

Julian picked up the documents.

Richard continued.

"Daniel discovered certain financial irregularities. Unfortunately, rather than reporting them, he became involved."

"That's a lie," Sadie said.

Richard looked almost sympathetic.

"I understand this is difficult."

"Don't patronize me."

"Your uncle transferred nearly two million dollars through shell companies connected to Corsini Shipping."

Julian examined the paperwork.

"These are copies."

"The originals were destroyed in the warehouse fire."

"Convenient."

Richard's expression tightened.

"I've protected this family for twenty-five years, Julian."

"And you've been accessing my security system."

Richard blinked.

"What?"

Julian slid Martin's report across the desk.

Richard studied it.

Then laughed.

"Someone used my credentials?"

"Six times."

"Then I suggest you investigate your security department."

Sadie watched him carefully.

He wasn't sweating.

He wasn't nervous.

He looked offended.

That bothered her more than panic would have.

After Richard left, Julian called Martin into the office.

"Find out who accessed those accounts."

"We're already working on it."

"Faster."

Martin hesitated.

"There's something else."

He placed another report on the desk.

"Someone copied the security archive yesterday."

Julian looked up.

"Who?"

Martin swallowed.

"My credentials."

The room went silent.

Sadie looked at him.

Martin's expression was grim.

"I didn't do it."

Julian stood.

"Your access is suspended."

Martin nodded.

"I expected that."

"Turn over your phone and identification."

For the first time, Sadie saw genuine hurt on Martin's face.

But he complied.

After he left, she turned to Julian.

"You don't believe him."

"I don't know what to believe."

"He's been with you eighteen years."

"So has Richard."

That ended the argument.

By evening, Sadie had spread photographs of the five stolen objects across the breakfast table.

The train ticket had been recovered from her apartment.

The other four remained missing.

But Julian had detailed photographs of each.

Sadie examined them with a magnifying glass.

The train ticket carried a date.

The matchbook had an old telephone number.

The cuff link bore tiny engraved initials.

The record sleeve had a handwritten catalog number.

And the tie clip had three deliberate scratches near its clasp.

She arranged the photographs in a row.

"Your mother kept these in separate rooms."

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Daniel's instructions."

Sadie stared at the objects.

"What if we're thinking about this backward?"

Julian looked up.

"Explain."

"What if they don't point to a person?"

"We already found Richard's initials."

"Exactly. That tells us who Daniel suspected. But what if the rest tells us where he hid the proof?"

Julian moved beside her.

Together, they examined every number.

Sadie wrote them down.

Then rearranged them.

Dates.

Letters.

Numbers.

A sequence began to emerge.

She stared at the paper.

"Julian."

He leaned closer.

"What?"

"South Station."

The old storage records were difficult to obtain.

Fortunately, Julian Corsini had the sort of money that made difficult things considerably less difficult.

By the following afternoon, Ethan had located archived records from a former private luggage-storage company that once operated near South Station.

One locker number matched the sequence.

417.

Sadie stared at it.

"Four seventeen."

Julian looked at her.

"What?"

"The recording."

"What recording?"

"My dance."

He frowned.

"Four minutes and eleven seconds."

"I know. But when you wrote that card, you said I missed a step at 2:47."

"Yes."

Sadie smiled.

"Sorry. I just enjoy reminding you that you watched me."

"Focus, Sadie."

She laughed.

"Fine."

The locker itself had been removed years earlier.

But the storage company's unclaimed-property records led them to a warehouse outside Boston.

Inside a dusty cardboard box marked with a faded number, they found a small metal case.

Julian opened it.

A microcassette.

And an envelope addressed to Claire.

Sadie held her breath.

"Is that Daniel's handwriting?"

Julian nodded.

His hands were trembling.

She had never seen that before.

Back at the mansion, Ethan located an old cassette player.

Julian, Sadie, and Claire gathered around the table.

The tape hissed.

Then a man's voice filled the room.

"If you're hearing this, something went wrong."

Claire covered her mouth.

Sadie felt tears sting her eyes.

Daniel.

Older than she remembered.

But unmistakably Daniel.

"I don't know how much time I have. Evelyn has the originals. The numbers are in the things I left behind."

A pause.

Then Daniel spoke again.

"If Julian is hearing this, Richard knows."

Julian went completely still.

The tape crackled.

"Don't trust—"

A sharp click.

Silence.

Ethan examined the cassette.

"The tape's been cut."

Sadie stared at the machine.

"Can you fix it?"

"There's nothing to fix. Someone physically removed the rest."

Claire began crying.

Julian looked toward the window.

Sadie picked up the envelope.

Inside was a letter.

Daniel had written only three sentences.

Claire,

I never stopped loving you.

If I disappear again, don't believe what they tell you.

And please forgive me for what I had to do.

Sadie looked up.

"Again?"

Julian turned.

She held out the letter.

"He knew he was going to disappear a second time."