“I am calling Rachel,” I said, reaching for my purse.

The sun was setting by the time I walked back into Rachel’s office, the air conditioning blowing cold air across my neck.

Rachel was alone at her desk, her desk lamp casting a sharp circle of light over her paperwork.

She took the copied pages from my hand and laid them flat under the lamp.

She did not say a word for three minutes, her eyes scanning the lines of the blueprint and the signature page.

“This is his personal signature,” Rachel said, her voice quiet and steady.