I stood on the beach for another moment, letting my breathing settle, and then I turned and walked, calmly and without hurry, up the sand toward the resort and the bank of elevators that would carry me to the fourth floor.

I had work to do, and I knew exactly how to do it.

It was, after all, the only thing I had ever been truly good at — finding the truth that someone had worked very hard to hide, and laying it out, page by page, where it could not be denied.

I want to be honest about something, because it would be easy to make myself sound only like a frightened wife and a protective sister, and I was both of those things.

But I was also, in that moment, an auditor who had just found the largest and most personal fraud of her career, and some cold professional part of me knew precisely what to do and was almost steadied by the knowing.