Kendra had filled in the top section in her tidy cursive, listing our Elm Street address and our joint account numbers.

The signature on the bottom line looked just like mine.

It had the same sharp slant and the same heavy loops as my handwriting.

She’d practiced my signature before she ever walked into the branch.

She knew exactly what she was doing.

I stared at the forged ink on the screen.

My phone buzzed on the metal desk next to the laptop.

Haley had sent an encrypted message on the secure chat app.