And Roman had taken it, and turned it into a laundromat, a machine for washing dirty money clean through the pipes of a company that was supposed to be saving lives.

I read those rows of numbers the way I used to read them for the state, and I felt the old cold focus settle over me, the thing that had made me good at this before I ever let a charming man talk me into believing I was better suited to being decorative.

But I already knew, sitting there, that fraud alone would not be enough.

Fraud would take his money and his freedom, and that was necessary, but it was not the thing I had promised myself through two years of barred windows.