“Four hundred and twelve thousand dollars,” Arthur said, resting his hands on his wooden walking stick.

“Every dollar your father embezzled has been put back into the trust account after the sale of his commercial property interest on Elm Avenue.”

I turned to the second page, where the court-ordered bank freeze was printed in clean black type.

“No withdrawals permitted until Ethan turns twenty-one,” I read aloud.

“Not one,” Arthur said.

“And two hours ago Bradley Collins signed a voluntary surrender of his law license to avoid federal prosecution for notary fraud.”

“And what about my parents?”