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“He’s in my living room,” Birdie says. “He said he’d wait while I changed and found my keys. Apparently sawdust on my shirt is acceptable, but going to the bookstore in slippers isn’t.”

“It isn’t,” Harris calls from the other room.

Cassie smiles into her mug. “I have to leave for the vineyard, but I want to show you which books we checked last night.”

“Put those books to the side, and Harris and I can go through the rest,” Birdie says. “He can photograph anything we find.”

Cassie glances at her bag. “I’d like that. Rick’s expecting Andrei this morning.”

“You deal with Rick,” Birdie says, “and I’ll call if I find anything.”

When Cassie ends the call, she opens the drawer beneath the table and takes out both books Connor wrote in. She sets aside the one with the message about his desk and slips the book with the account numbers into her bag. I have photographs of both pages on my phone, but I don’t argue. Connor wrote the numbers for her to find.

Drew calls as we finish breakfast. Reid has confirmed Rick’s appointment for ten. The man arrested near the fuel area remains in police custody. The damaged fence is repaired, though Drew has kept patrols along the northern boundary.

“Birdie is returning to the bookstore with Harris,” I tell him.

“I’ve spoken to Harris,” Drew replies. “Cole will accompany you and Cassie back here.”

“I’ll see you before Rick arrives.”

I end the call and find Cassie watching me. “Cole’s coming with us?” she asks.

“Yes. He’s been here all night, and Drew needs him back at the estate.”

“And Birdie has Harris.” She rises and takes our plates to the sink. “I can live with that.”

While Cassie gets dressed, I take a plate of eggs and toast downstairs for Cole, along with the coffee I promised him. He has a clear view of the front windows from the reading nook and tells me the street has been quiet. By the time I return, Cassie is checking that Murphy has enough food and water.

At the apartment door, she takes one last look back. Murphy sits on the sofa, washing his paw, as indifferent to our departure as he was to our arrival.

“He’ll be fine,” she says, mostly to herself.

“Birdie will be here soon.”

“I know.” She locks the door and follows me down the stairs.

Yesterday’s search left a neat line of checked books on the rear table, with the two Connor wrote in removed from the pile. Cassie pauses beside it, then continues toward the front door. Cole waits by my vehicle across the street.

On the drive to Ember Ridge, Cassie keeps Connor’s book inside her bag. She watches the wet road through the windshield and asks once whether Reid has sent Rick a copy of the forged documents. I tell her Reid sent the pages necessary for the meeting and kept the rest for us to review in person. She nods and returns her attention to the road.

The gates open as we approach the vineyard. Beyond them, harvest crews are already working the lower rows, their jackets bright against the vines. A tractor moves toward the production building with bins of fruit, and the air near the crush pad carries the sweet smell of grapes beneath the damp morning earth.

Drew meets us near my office. He has a radio in one hand.

“Rick left Seattle on schedule,” he says. “Mercer followed him to the highway. No unexplained stops.”

“And the man in police custody?” I ask.

“Still refusing to say who sent him. The deputies have the container and the camera footage. Leo has moved the crews back into the lower blocks, away from the fuel area.”

I focus on the rows where workers are cutting grapes. “Keep the patrol there.”

Drew nods, then looks at Cassie. “Harris confirmed he and Birdie reached the bookstore. They went in through the front.”

“Thank you,” she tells him. Her grip eases on her bag.

Reid is waiting in my office with the forged invoices and loan pages arranged on the conference table. He looks up when we enter. “Rick will be here in fifteen minutes. He thinks this is just a review of the documents.”