Seventy-Three Thousand Dollars in Phony Medical Bills, Paid for a Pregnant Replacement

She wrote it down and didn’t look pleased about it.

“And one more thing,” I said.

“The joint checking account.

Pull every statement since we opened it.”

“All the way back to 2018?”

“All the way back to the first month.”

David’s office was on the second floor of a strip mall, over a nail salon.

The sign outside was missing its T, and the plastic letters had left pale squares on the stucco.