Small amounts at first, then larger ones.
A pattern that, once I saw it laid out in full, was unmistakable.
I sent everything to Ruth and closed the laptop.
I made tea.
I sat at the kitchen table in the apartment I had furnished and painted and kept running for six years, and I drank it slowly.
My phone rang.
Unknown number.
The same one as the text.
I let it ring.
When it went to voicemail, no message was left.
I took another screenshot of the missed call and sent it to Daniel and to Ruth.
Ruth replied within two minutes.
*Good.
Keep logging everything.
I’ll look into the number tomorrow.*
I finished my tea.
I washed the cup.
I went to bed.
I didn’t sleep well, but I slept.
In the morning, Ruth called at five past nine.
“I’ve reviewed the statements,” she said.
“There’s something in here I want to ask you about.
A recurring transfer, once a month, for the last fourteen months.
To an account that isn’t Nathan’s tuition provider and isn’t any of the household bills.”
I sat up.
“I don’t know what that is.”
“I didn’t think you would.” Her voice was careful.
“The account it’s going to is registered to a holding company.
It took me about an hour this morning to trace it.” A pause.
“The holding company has one listed director.
Her name is Cassandra Voss.”
The tea I had made was going cold on the nightstand.
“He was paying her,” I said.
“Monthly.
For over a year.
