At four thirty, I pulled up to Rachel Kim’s office with the blue vinyl binder lying flat on the passenger seat.

The thick plastic cover was scratched along the edge, and it held yellowed deposit slips from six years earlier.

Rachel opened the blue binder on her desk and turned the plastic sleeves slowly, reading every line of faded blue ink.

“Sixty-five thousand dollars transferred straight from your grandmother’s estate account into the title company’s escrow,” Rachel said, lining up the page edges with her legal pad.

“This is unmistakable.