Chapter 9 - The first financial map
Dad brought me a folder to the hospital.
Not secretly.
After police completed my initial interview and my attorney arrived.
The folder contained the original estate distribution records from Grandma Ruth.
$228,400.
Deposit confirmation.
Tax statements.
Nothing mysterious.
Dad sat beside my hospital bed.
“Start with what you know.”
I said:
“I know it’s gone.”
“Partly gone.”
“Don’t correct me.”
“Fine.”
I glared.
Then:
“I authorized forty-two thousand for the house.”
“Yes.”
“Expected balance around one eighty-six.”
“Roughly.”
“Actual forty-one.”
Dad wrote:
Difference approximately $145,000.
That number eventually became $144,650 after complete reconciliation.
At the hospital we had only an estimate.
My lawyer arrived.
Her name was Rebecca Alvarez.
Early forties.
Divorce and domestic-relations practice.
She looked at Dad’s notebook.
Then at me.
“Do not call the bank and accuse specific people of crimes yet.”
“I know David did it.”
“You know money moved.”
“He admitted—”
“Did he?”
I stopped.
Before the shove, David had not yet explained any transfer.
My certainty came from context.
Rebecca said:
“We preserve. We trace. We don’t decorate facts.”
I looked at Dad.
He smiled slightly.
May you like
I hated both of them.
Good sign.
