It was a client of nine years asking whether I was all right and whether Meridian was in trouble.

By that evening two of his investors had called for an accounting.

Ninety seconds.

Four sentences.

All of them true, and none of them anybody’s business but mine.

Part Fifteen: 6:04 in the Morning

They came for him three days later, at four minutes past six on a Tuesday morning, at a hotel on Rockside Road.

Not at my house.