The number at the bottom of the first page was $83,640.

I checked it once, then a second time, because there are figures your mind refuses to accept even when they’re printed in black ink.

Andrew stood across from me, balancing awkwardly on his crutches.

Through the hospital-room door, I could hear Brenda demanding that someone let her inside.

I put the statement back on the bed, then picked it up again.

The transfers were not random.

Each was identified as a consulting expense or reimbursement.

Each had passed through an account that belonged to Crestview Developments.

And every one had been approved using the electronic credentials assigned to Mark.

For twenty-eight years, I had believed that if there was a problem inside the company, I would eventually find it.

I had built our first bookkeeping system with a calculator, a notebook, and a secondhand computer.

I knew the rhythm of our business better than I knew the rhythm of my own heartbeat.

But for the past year Mark had treated that knowledge as an inconvenience, something to be boxed up and put away like an old office chair.

“Where did you get these?” I asked Andrew.

“Brenda left a folder open in her bag,” he said.

“I didn’t go through it to find financial secrets.

I was looking for the hospital insurance card.

I saw her name on a transfer summary, then your company’s name.