I held up the forged wire slip and turned it slowly so the whole horrified semicircle could see the bank stamp and the two signatures.

“Seventy-two thousand dollars,” I said, stripping my voice down to the bare facts.

“The exact price of the Jeep in this driveway.

And the exact amount illegally withdrawn from Account 8804 this week.” I turned to Quinn, who stood frozen with both hands over her mouth, the clearance bracelet forgotten on the concrete at her feet.

“They emptied your college fund, sweetheart,” I said, then whipped back to my mother.

“You stole a dead man’s promise.