On the leather sofa three feet behind me, Daniel shifted his shoulders and let out a long, even breath.

I slid the paper back inside the briefcase divider, lining its edge up flush against the dark leather lining.

I lowered the gold brass clasp until the lock clicked shut without a sound.

I stepped quietly out of the study, crossed the carpeted hallway, and walked down to the dark kitchen.

At sixteen minutes past eight the next morning, I sat in my sedan at the bottom of the glass mansion’s driveway.

The dashboard clock showed eight fourteen while the engine idled smoothly near the stone gateposts.