On January 12, I’d been standing on a concrete footing in Munich, taking core sample readings for a six-story rail terminal.

I had never signed a power of attorney on January 12, and in seventeen years of marriage I had never given Trevor permission to sign my name on any legal document.

Who had signed that power of attorney dated January 12?

Before I could hit reply to flag the transfer as fraud, the satellite indicator on my phone went from green to dark yellow.

The signal icon flickered twice, dropped to zero bars, and went completely dark as the plane passed into the dead zone between satellite coverage areas.