The second was to a woman named Priya Raghunathan, who had been Harrison’s attorney for a decade, and whose first words on the call were, “Harrison, it’s eleven o’clock,” and whose second words, after he had spoken for forty seconds, were, “Don’t say anything else on a mobile.

I’ll be there in an hour.”

Part Nine: What He Knew on the Doorstep

They worked through the night at the kitchen island.

Priya Raghunathan arrived at ten past midnight in jeans with a laptop bag and took over the room within four minutes.

Desmond Ruiz arrived at one and did not take his coat off for the next fourteen hours.

By four in the morning there was a printed timeline on the counter running to nine pages, and Maya had learned the following: that a title transfer on a property at her address had been recorded eleven days earlier; that the recorded seller had signed as Maya Sterling; that the notary’s stamp belonged to a woman working out of a suburban title office who had notarized eleven documents that same afternoon; and that the proceeds — five hundred and ninety-one thousand dollars, after fees — had cleared into an account four days ago and had already moved twice.