“Changed?” Evan balked. “Are you psychotic? We just got here!”

“I’m protecting my assets,” I replied. “Madison knew exactly which room to take. She knew exactly how to dismantle my office. She acts like she owns the place.

I can’t guarantee she doesn’t already have a key.”

Madison’s eyes darted to the floor. The micro-expression of pure panic didn’t escape me.

Vince knelt by the front door and began unscrewing the heavy brass Schlage lock. For a few minutes the only sound was the mechanical whine of his drill.

Then Vince paused. He pulled the cylinder out, pushed his safety glasses up his nose, and squinted at the metal, running a calloused thumb over the internal pins.