“Derek,” I said, keeping my voice flat.

“Where are you right now?” Derek demanded.

His voice crackled through the little plastic speaker with a sharp digital delay and the loud hiss of sea wind behind it.

“I’m standing in our kitchen on Oak Ridge Road,” I said, pressing my hands flat against the edge of the table.

“Where’s the nineteen thousand dollars that’s missing from our checking account?”

Derek’s quick, smooth tone turned sharp at once.