“That’s our main checking account,” I said, my voice climbing half an octave in the quiet lobby.

“There’s thirty-four thousand six hundred and twelve dollars in that account.”

“David came in Tuesday morning with a signed transfer order,” Nancy said, tipping her chin down toward the silver counter microphone.

“He moved the balance into a single-owner corporate reserve account and closed the joint account completely.”

“My name’s on the original signature card from three years ago,” I said.

“Not on the new corporate account, it isn’t,” Nancy said, sliding my blue card back through the tray toward me without meeting my eyes.