A cold autumn wind moved through the trees, setting the stained glass windows of the sanctuary softly chiming in their lead frames.

“He moved money again yesterday,” Wade said, his thumb running down a long column of handwritten figures in Kade’s old business log.

I quit sweeping and leaned my hands on the broom handle.

“Yesterday was Saturday,” I said.

“The bank closed at noon.”

“He sent an electronic wire transfer out of the legal escrow account,” Wade said, holding up a printout on thermal receipt paper.

“Forty-five thousand dollars cleared at four fifteen yesterday afternoon.”