“Ms.

Vance.” She did not sound hostile.

She sounded like someone reading a delivery manifest.

“As of nine-fifty this morning your access credentials to this property have been revoked — gates, doors, alarm codes, and the household accounts.

A locksmith is en route.

Your personal effects will be inventoried by two people, photographed, boxed, and delivered to an address you provide.

You will not be re-entering the residence.”

“You can’t—”