PART 1 — THE ENVELOPE ON THE COFFEE TABLE

The officer’s sealed envelope had Daniel’s name written across the front in black block letters, and it sat on the coffee table between the salt shaker and a bowl of wrapped candies.

I set my travel bag beside the sofa and watched my father turn the envelope over twice before opening it.

“You can leave that for later,” Marlene said.

Daniel looked at her, then at me.

“I think we should know why they brought it.”

He slid one finger beneath the flap.

I had eleven days before I was due back on duty.

I’d planned to spend those days eating my father’s cooking, helping him repair the loose gutter over the garage, and leaving North Carolina without having to think about anything more complicated than whether the Buick needed another oil change.

Instead, a federal investigator had visited the house less than an hour after I arrived.

The officer had been professional and brief.

He explained that financial records and electronic communications associated with the household might be relevant to an ongoing investigation.

Daniel was being instructed to preserve certain records, not accused of a crime on the spot.

The packet also referenced recent attempts to recover access to an account belonging to someone connected to the address.

I’d assumed it was one of Dad’s accounts.

Then he opened the notice.

His expression changed.

“What does it say?” I asked.

He rubbed his thumb along the edge of the paper.