He nodded, satisfied, and went back to his screen, and did not know that my own ledger was already locked in Karina’s safe, or that the zero in my bank account was a temporary figure in a much larger calculation.

At two I sat in the leather chair opposite Karina’s desk, and two men in plain dark suits sat on the small sofa by the window.

Detective Harris kept his hands on his knees.

Detective Benson held a yellow legal pad.

“Show them the dates, Clara,” Karina said.

I laid out the photocopies of the urgent-care medical reports, and beside them the loan guarantee for the four hundred and twelve thousand dollars.

The signature on the loan matches the handwriting on my joint account card, I said, pointing to the sharp slant of the C, but on the date this was notarized I was in Boston at an audit conference, and I have the train receipts.