I put my hand flat on the cold oak.

“May I see the statements anyway?”

Franklin Hayes clicked his tongue against his teeth and went to the file cabinet, and while he was gone, I looked at the mailer from Baldwin Logistics again, at the bottom where the signature was.

Charles Baldwin, in blue ink.

I knew that blue.

It was the same pen he had used on every birthday card he ever sent me, the ones with store-bought verses he never read before signing.

Franklin Hayes, the senior trust officer at Onondaga Savings Bank, set a black ledger on the conference table at nine o’clock exactly.