I smoothed the wool lapel over the pocket, stepped out into the hallway, and quietly closed the study door.

She slid her fingers down the mahogany door frame and stepped back into the dim room.

The smell of polished leather and Cole’s citrus cologne hung heavy in the air.

She went straight back to the executive desk.

The bottom filing drawer was locked, and the small brass key was sitting in a pewter pen cup.

She turned the key until the lock clicked, then pulled the heavy oak drawer open along its steel runners.

Behind a thick stack of state tax filings from three years ago was a thin black smartphone, lying flat against the wood panel.