“What recurring debit would that be?” I asked, touching the silver pendant at my throat.

Donald pointed a slim gold pen at the third row of numbers on the printout.

“On the fifteenth of every month for the last three years, eight hundred dollars has gone out of account four-eight-two,” Donald said.

“Under state banking rules, one joint account holder can set up automatic electronic payments without a second signature.”

I leaned in over the polished wood counter and read the bold black figures printed next to the date column.

“Where’s that money going every month?” I asked.