The audit pages were crisp and white, neatly bound in blue legal backs.

Arthur Vance had laid the notary stamp audit out flat on the table two hours before sunrise.

The blue ink impression on the trust transfer forms showed a tiny notch in the outer brass ring.

That small flaw matched the second rubber desk stamp Richard kept in his mahogany drawer on Pine Street, proving that Bradley Collins had prepared the forged papers himself and stamped them without Ethan anywhere in the room.

I pulled my Kevlar vest down over my shoulders and fastened the thick Velcro side straps until the vest lay flat against my chest.