friends.
Whenever I asked about them, Mark insisted they were temporary investments.
So I had quietly begun keeping copies.
Bank statements.
Transfers.
Emails.
Anything that seemed unusual.
Standing in the foyer, I simply stepped aside.
“Have a nice trip.”
Mark blinked.
“That’s it?”
“That’s it.”
Lorraine gave me a smug little wave.
“Try not to spend the whole week sulking.”
I watched their SUV disappear down the street.
Then I locked the door.
And made two calls.
The first was to Elena Ruiz, the forensic accountant who had already been
