If I got caught, I’d act naturally. Like I belonged in Dad’s office. I was looking for stationery. To write a card. Except the excuse sounded flimsy, even as I muttered it under my breath, and I prayed I wouldn’t have to recite it aloud.

I bent down on one knee and tugged open the drawers of Dad’s mahogany desk. They all slid open easily. The first held a few pens, business cards, and thumb tacks. The second looked like folders filled with hundreds of receipts. It would take me hours to go through all of them. The last drawer held filing folders, each labeled with the various businesses my father owned, from Rayner Industries to Hennessey’s. There were about eight fat folders nestled in the pull-out drawer. Again, to sift through all of them would take hours. I couldn’t possibly take all the files out of the house; Dad would notice they were missing right away. He may not suspect me at first, but I knew I’d get caught. The whole plan wasn’t well thought out at all. It was never going to work. I was about to leave and tell Ryder that his request was impossible to fulfill when I tried the fourth and final drawer.

Inside, I found a small envelope. Nothing else. Just a small, rectangular envelope. Unsealed. I flipped it around and shook out its contents. A single photo. Of a woman. She had long, reddish-blonde curls that came down past her breasts. Shock was etched all over her face. Her mouth was covered in duct tape, and her disfigured face was cut and bruised in several places, her cheek and neck crusted with dried blood. Her wrists and ankles were bound by rope, and she lay splayed on what looked like a hotel bed. The lighting was dim, so it was hard to identify where the photo had been taken.

Was this enough? What the hell? Why did Dad have a photo like this lying around in his office? It was as if he wanted it to be found. The drawer had been unlocked, even though it had a keyhole, which suggested that it could’ve been locked if he wanted it to be.

I heard clinking glasses downstairs, and the crowd began singing happy birthday to my old man. I had a couple more minutes, maybe, before one or both of my parents realized I was missing. I couldn’t take the photo, so I whipped out my cellphone and snapped a photo of the incriminating evidence before carefully placing it back in the drawer.

I did a final sweep of the desk, making sure everything looked the same as before. Then, I turned the doorknob and thanked God when the heavy door slid open soundlessly. When I reached the top of the staircase, my heart was about to leap out of my rib cage. I caught my mother’s eye from across the room and gave her an awkward smile. If she asked later, I would say I was in the bathroom upstairs because the guest one down below was occupied.

No one asked. No one had noticed.

My gaze swept over the room and settled on the bartending station, where I’d last seen Ryder. He was gone, replaced by a younger man with curly hair. I was about to turn and head for the front door when a soft voice came behind me. “Say goodbye to your parents. I’ll meet you out by your car.”

I didn’t turn around, or even nod. The warmth behind me shifted, replaced by a rush of cool air. I made my way toward the bar and tapped Dad’s shoulders. “I’m heading home now, Dad. I have an early day tomorrow. Where’s Mom?”

Dad smiled. “Don’t worry, honey, I’ll tell her you said bye. Drive safe now.”

“I will.” Dad leaned in and stuck out his cheek. I gave him a peck, like I always did. “Good night, Dad. And happy birthday.”

“Thanks, honey. I’m glad you came. Hope you liked the food.”

“Top notch, as always.” I grinned. It was a lie. The first of many I’d eventually tell my dad. After grabbing my coat, I buttoned it up and made my way out into the chilly driveway. It was lined with about a dozen luxury sedans and a few SUVs farther in. When I made it to my car, Ryder was there, waiting.

“Did you find anything?”

“Nope.”

“Really?” He sounded surprised, as if he’d expected me to find something.

“Just a bunch of receipts and files. I couldn’t possibly look through all of them. It would’ve taken hours. So I just left.”

“Huh. Okay.”

“Why? Were you hoping I’d find something incriminating and hand it over to you?” I asked, beeping open my car.

“Cally.”

“It’s Callista to you.”

“Callista.”

I forced my teeth to stop chattering. “I did what you asked. Now I hope you’ll uphold your end of the bargain and leave me and my family alone.”

“Cally—Callista, I’m so sorry.”

“For what?”

Ryder’s face was hard and impassive, but a glimmer of regret danced in his pupils. “I really need your help,” he said. “And I’ll do anything to get it.”

“And I really need you to back the hell away from me. You’re on private property, and you’re trespassing.” I unhooked my purse, ready to pull out my phone.

“Cally, please, tell me the truth. What did you find in there?” Ryder was begging now, his eyes wide and desperate.

“I already told you. Nothing.”

“How can I trust you if you won’t trust me?”

“I don’t want your trust,” I snarled. “Now leave.”

“Is everything all right over there?” Someone shone a flashlight at us. The event security Dad hired for the party. “Miss Rayner. Is everything okay? Is this man harassing you?”

“He was just leaving,” I said, shooting Ryder daggers. “Leave,” I hissed, “before I call security.”

“Actually, we were just leaving,” Ryder said, grabbing my wrist. I felt something cold and round pressed against my back. “Right, honey?”

I tried to swallow what felt like a golf ball lodged in my throat. Like hell I was going to let Ryder take me at gunpoint. I sucked in a sharp breath, nodded, and cried, “He’s got a gun!”