Clara found a forged receipt for forty thousand dollars

on her knees, the top page covered in her small, precise cursive.

“He will try to bluster,” she said in a low voice, her eyes never leaving the glass entrance doors. “He always does when he knows the ground is soft beneath him.”

“I just want this over,” Gary whispered, his fingers twitching under mine. “I want to get back to the greenhouse before the continue reading …