They’d slept right through their morning alarms while Caleb was being rolled into the operating room at six twenty-two.

When they finally woke up, instead of driving to the hospital, they’d strolled right across the street to put a deposit on a dress.

“Is there anything else on the ledger you’d like me to check, Mrs.

Whitaker?” Warren asked.

“No, Mr.

Miller,” I said.

“Thanks for looking.”

“If you suspect fraud, we can put a temporary hold on it,” Warren said in his exact, professional voice.