“Can that help?” Chloe whispered.

“My dear,” Evelyn said, “that may end his legal career.”

At 11:20 p.m., police met us at Chloe’s penthouse. Robert wanted her to stay behind with the nurse, but she refused. “It’s mine. I want to see what they did.”

So we went together. The lobby was quiet, but upstairs, outside her door, the lock was scratched and the frame bore fresh marks. Someone had tried to get in.

The locksmith was gone.

Inside, nothing looked disturbed until the bedroom. Chloe’s closet stood open, and the hidden panel had been found. The safe was still locked, but someone had scratched the keypad badly.