Spencer leaned in, his elbows landing on the table with a soft thump.

“Fifteen thousand?”

“That’s the precise amount set out in the October revision, Mr.

Ashford,” Thomas said, not raising his eyes from the page.

“That can’t be right,” Spencer said, rubbing the back of his neck again.

“Dad told me last summer the commercial account had more than three hundred thousand in it.”

“Your father made several large transfers out of that account in the last six months of his life,” Thomas said.

Patricia swung her head toward her son, her eyebrows drawing together.