He gave me his login details freely.”

“The written transcript records your father saying otherwise,” Samuel said softly.

“He told the fraud division that someone had been intercepting his paper bank statements from his mailbox on Elm Street.”

I stepped closer to the corner of Dad’s desk.

My throat felt dry, but I kept my hands folded over my skirt.

“He asked me in June if the mail carrier had come early,” I said.

“I thought he was just looking for his lawn care bills.”