A team of four federal investigators, wearing windbreakers bearing the emblem of the IRS Criminal Investigation Division, strode purposefully into the grand foyer.

They were flanked by half a dozen local uniformed police officers.

The ballroom descended into an absolute, breathless paralysis.

You could have heard a pin drop on the thick Persian rugs.

Daniel let out a pathetic, high-pitched whimper and stumbled backward, colliding heavily with a catering table.

Silverware clattered to the floor.

“Claire…” he gasped, his eyes wide with a horrific realization. “What did you do?”