“And he admitted he used a master key on that door,” Sophie said, tapping the phone screen.

The little speaker on the counter gave a faint hiss of static, then played Dean’s sharp voice clearly through the small room: *I brought the master key ring from the house.

You don’t have to hide from me, Clara.*

Sophie stopped the recording and looked up at me.

“He stole Dad’s master key ring six years ago, Mom.

That’s how he got into the shed tonight.”

“He took the blank tax papers,” I said, barely above a whisper.