Sloane Hayes Kept Track of Every Dollar Before Her Husband Ever Signed the Apex Account

At one thirty, Arthur spread the bank ledgers out across the table.

The yellow legal pad sat next to his coffee, a list of dates in his tiny block letters.

A pencil lay across it, sharpened to a needle point.

“January through December,” he said.

“That makes twelve statements.

I have eight.”

I pulled the pile toward me.

“The bank sends out duplicates.”