“Pictures of everything.”
That was my daughter.
Paper copies could vanish.
So she had photographed them.
We brought the flash drive into the kitchen.
My laptop was ancient enough that opening the files took several minutes.
Marcy sat beside me.
Ellen stood behind us.
There were forty-seven photographs.
Deposit slips.
Account summaries.
Invoices.
Checks.
A spreadsheet Marcy had created herself.
At first it looked like meaningless numbers.
Then she explained.
“See these membership payments?”
“Yes.”
“They go into the gym’s main account.”
She clicked another image.
“These are sponsorship deposits.”
“And they don’t?”
“Not all of them.”
Some sponsorship money went into a second account.
Mercer Athletic Consulting.
“What does the company do?”
“I searched the state business registry,” Marcy said. “It exists, but it was only created eleven months ago.”
“Who owns it?”
“That information wasn’t public.”
Ellen pointed at the screen.
“What’s this?”
