I led Daniel into the quiet study and stopped beside my grandfather’s oak desk in the corner.

The oak desk had stood in this room since 1948, its dark varnish worn smooth along the front edge where my grandfather had rested his arms while writing in his ledgers.

“The original Navy wire transfer statements are still in this top drawer,” I said, sliding the heavy brass pull back.

Daniel set his leather bag on the desk and took out a fresh yellow legal pad.

“They signed an order restricting your access to the outbuildings until Judge Simmons rules,” Daniel said, writing three lines on his pad.