He walked straight to the locked metal drop box beside the building manager’s door and took out the thick envelope I had left there forty minutes earlier.

“Your audit trail is watertight, Vivian,” Miller said, leaning his hip against the doorframe as he opened the clasp.

“The federal prosecutor went through the mirrored server logs from your blue flash drive.”

“Did they verify the bank account registration numbers?” I asked, pulling a fresh liner into the desk wastebasket.

“Every single digit,” Miller said, sliding his reading glasses onto his nose.

“Wire fraud, grand larceny, insurance perjury, and deliberate custodial extortion.”