“It says wire transfer, not commercial loan investment.”

“Quit snooping through my papers, Mara.”

He yanked the statement out of my hand, folded it into four tight squares and stuffed it into his jacket pocket.

“Is that money coming back into our family account before November twentieth?” I asked him.

“Don’t ask me about the firm’s ledger entries again,” he said.

Maisie pulled her stuffed bunny up under her chin and watched her father with big, silent eyes.

Cole spun around and went out the back door toward the garage before the wall clock reached eleven fifteen.