Hale put on his reading glasses and held the page under the desk lamp.

“Four hundred and ten thousand.

Eight lines, eight accounts, all of them drawing on Whitmore firms.” He wrote the date in the corner with the pen and initialed it.

“That pen looks older than this courthouse.”

“A state trooper captain gave it to me the day I made detective.

He said write everything down, because a courtroom is where a man’s memory gets taken apart.” He capped it.

“He wasn’t wrong.”