MY DAUGHTER-IN-LAW DRAGGED MY 3-YEAR-OLD GRANDDAUGHTER ACROSS THE FLOOR—THEN I WALKED IN.

My husband, Arthur, had been dead for nine years. His final will was in my desk, a document I had read so often that I knew its clauses by heart.

Or thought I did.

Naomi spent the next morning comparing certified copies from the court with the version stored in our family files. A supplemental instruction had been added three days before Arthur's death. It created a special trust for any future grandchildren and required independent oversight of its investments.

"Why didn't you tell me?" I asked the photograph of my husband on my desk.

"Because someone concealed it," Naomi answered. "Halden's office recorded the filing, but your copy doesn't include it."

Julian had become the trustee after Arthur's death. When Maya was born, her inheritance became enormous on paper—and tightly protected in law. Vanessa could not simply spend it. She needed a court to recognize her authority, and she needed someone to tamper with the trust records.

"They were trying to remove the only two people who could stop the transfers," I said. "Julian and me."

Naomi nodded. "And send the beneficiary where nobody could reach her."

Theo entered, pale. "Garrick wants to talk. He says he'll speak to the detective, not to you."

Garrick had been detained for questioning after the gala and released pending further investigation. Now he'd contacted Quinn from an attorney's office.

At the police station, the big man looked smaller without his expensive coat.

"I was paid to stand by a door," he said. "I knew a child was going into the van. I told myself it was a family dispute."

"You heard her scream," I said.

He couldn't look at me. "Yes."

Quinn asked who ordered him there.

"Mercer sent the instructions. Halden paid me. But there's something you should know about the man in the photograph."