“He is.”
“Probably.”
But uncertainty had already opened inside me.
Daniel lied easily when protecting himself. He became charming, indignant, or wounded. In the voicemail, however, he sounded frightened in a different way—not of losing money or status, but of being too late.
“What if the affair and the payments are connected?” I asked.
Evelyn folded her arms. “They already are.”
“No. What if they’re connected in a way we haven’t understood?”
My phone vibrated.
A message appeared from an unknown number.
Do not let Daniel speak to investigators alone. Ask him what happened to your father’s final audit.
I read it twice.
My father had died eleven years earlier after a brief illness. He had founded a respected accounting firm and taught me to trace numbers without forgetting the people behind them. I knew about every major case he had worked, or believed I did.
