"My wife isn't a wife.

Delia was parked exactly where she said she would be.

Nora got in the passenger side and pulled the door shut.

"How long?" Delia said.

"Thirty-one minutes." Nora set the folder on her lap.

"He told me he called the agency to report concerns about my mental stability.

He said it in the office."

Delia looked at her.

"He said that out loud."

"He thought he was in control of the conversation." Nora looked straight ahead through the windshield.

"He has a security system.

Cameras in the entry hall and the main rooms.

He's had them for years.

He used to joke that they were for the staff."

"Are the recordings stored locally or on a server?"

"Server.

He uses a home security company.

I set up the account.

The login credentials are still in my name." Nora reached into her bag and pulled out her phone.

"I never changed them because he never asked me to."

Delia stared at her.

"You have access to his security footage."

"I have access to the account.

Whether the footage is still there depends on how long they retain recordings." Nora opened the app.

Her hands were steady.

"He changed the house alarm code.

He didn't think about the camera system."

The app loaded.

The account was still active.

She navigated to the archive.

Today's recordings were there.

She found the office camera timestamp and pressed play.

Bradley's voice came through the phone speaker, thin and clear.

*To flag certain concerns about your mental stability.

Stress of the placement.

Erratic behavior.

The kind of thing that voids a contract.*

Delia exhaled through her nose.

"Send that to me," she said.

"Right now.

Before he thinks to check the account."

Nora forwarded the clip.

Then she went back into the archive and pulled every recording from the past ninety days.

She didn't know what was in them.

She forwarded them all.

"There's something else," Nora said.

"The key to the locked drawer.

He picked it up off the desk when I left.

He'll move whatever is in that drawer before tonight."

"Then we don't have much time." Delia was already dialing.

"I have a contact at the state financial crimes unit.

I've been building this file for two years.

The footage of him threatening to file a false report with a regulatory agency — that's not a civil matter anymore.

That's obstruction." She put the phone to her ear.

"And if he moves those files tonight, that's evidence tampering."

The call connected.

"It's Delia Vance.

I need to speak with Harmon.

Tell him it's about the Hill account." A pause.

"Yes, I'll hold."

Nora sat with the phone in her lap, the security app still open.

She watched the live feed from the office camera.

Bradley was standing at the locked drawer.

He had it open.

He was pulling folders out one by one and stacking them on the desk.

She took a screenshot.

Then another.

Then she started a screen recording.

"Delia," she said quietly.

Delia glanced over.

Nora held up the phone.

On the small screen, Bradley Hill was standing in his own office, methodically removing documents from a locked drawer and feeding them into the paper shredder beside the desk.

Delia spoke into her phone.

"Harmon.

We need a warrant.

Tonight." A pause.

"Because he's destroying it right now and I have it on camera."

Nora kept recording.

She watched her husband of four years feed paper after paper into the shredder, unhurried, confident, certain that no one was watching.

The shredder ran for eleven minutes.

She recorded every second.

When it stopped, Bradley straightened up, looked around the office once, and turned off the light.

Nora ended the recording and saved it to three places.

"Is it enough?" she asked.

Delia lowered the phone.

"Harmon says if the footage shows him destroying documents after being made aware of a potential investigation, yes.

Combined with the audio of him threatening to file a false regulatory report —" She stopped.

"Yes.

It's enough."

Nora looked out the windshield at the house.

The office window was dark.

The entry hall light was still on, warm and golden through the glass panel beside the front door, the same light she had turned on every evening for four years when she heard his car in the driveway.

"What happens now?" she said.

"Now we wait for Harmon to move." Delia started the truck.

"And you don't go back in there."

"I wasn't planning to."

They drove away from Paradise Valley as the sun dropped behind the hills.

Nora didn't look back.

Her phone buzzed.

Conrad.

*Everything okay?*

She typed back: *Yes.

Drive back tonight?*

A pause.