The refrigerator clicked off, then on again.

The clock over the stove read 7:58.

I sat at Delaney’s kitchen table with the tablet in both hands, staring at the zero balance on the screen.

I closed the banking app and unplugged the iPad’s charger from the wall.

The cracked blue screen went black, and I gathered the printed flight receipts and bank statements into a manila folder.

Chloe Sterling’s assistant buzzed me into the conference room at ten twenty-five, and I put the folder on the table before I even took off my coat.