“Mrs.

Sterling,” she said, clearing her throat with a dry rasp.

“I told you yesterday, the archive search is finished.”

“I’m not here about the prenup copy, Martha,” I said, stopping on the cold linoleum.

“I’m here about Vanguard Global.”

Martha’s hand went still over the cards.

The heavy brass key ring slid from her fingers and clattered onto the counter.

“I don’t know a thing about private corporations,” she said, glancing at the dark door of the microfiche room.