Gable, the night guard, holding his cap in his hands, having come, I would learn, to check on the woman and the boy he had pulled out of the snow.

“Mr.

Vance,” Gable said, and he looked the old man steadily in the eye.

“I think you should know something.

Early this morning, before dawn, I saw your sister Fiona’s car parked out near the front gates.

And I saw a man carrying an official courier envelope come to her window, and hand something through it, and drive away.”