“The bank transfer, the stolen stamp, and the forged signature all fit together neatly,” Dalton said.

“What happens next?” I asked.

“Your parents will be served formal legal summonses for civil conversion and fraud,” Dalton said.

He reached into his side cabinet and took a fresh yellow pad out of the drawer to start drafting a formal affidavit.

I woke up on the folding cot in the corner of the unfinished basement, stiff and cold.

The damp-carpet smell clung to my uniform trousers as I pulled them on in the dim light.

I stood in the cold room listening to the floorboards creak overhead.