“I never applied for a credit line with First National Bank,” I said.

“Look at the signature line at the bottom,” Rachel said.

I stared at the black ink on the line above the word Applicant.

The signature was written in a smooth, slanted script that imitated my handwriting, but the C in Claire ended in a high upward loop instead of my usual square, blunt curve.

“Arthur checked the teller logs,” Rachel said.

“The online application was submitted from the IP address at Mark’s corporate desk in Oakridge, and fifteen thousand dollars in cash was paid out in two bank drafts.”