Chloe leaned across the laminate table, her voice dropping to a flat, quiet murmur.

“He’ll strike back the moment he finds out about the breach, Vivian.

Men like Julian don’t settle when they’re caught.

They destroy the evidence.”

I reached across the table, took the little drive out of her card reader, and dropped it into my purse.

The blue flash drive clicked securely into the hidden zipper pocket of my canvas handbag.

By ten o’clock the next morning, the sunroom was warm enough to turn off the electric wall heater.

Eleanor sat in the wicker armchair with two long rosewood needles, working a skein of cream wool into a diagonal blanket pattern.