My dad threw my grandmother’s savings passbook into …

Her expression changed when I mentioned the initials R.H.

“Did your father have access to your grandmother’s financial records?”

“As far as I knew, no.”

Daniel cleared his throat.

“He did.”

I turned toward him.

“What?”

Daniel opened a drawer.

He removed a thick brown file.

“This was digitized years ago, but the original documents were never destroyed.”

He put the file on the desk.

There were signatures everywhere.

My grandmother’s.

My father’s.

And one signature that made my blood run cold.

Susan Henderson.

My stepmother.

“What did they do?”

Daniel looked at Detective Bennett.

She nodded.

“Show her.”

He opened the first document.

It was a withdrawal authorization.

The amount was $18,000.

Another.

$24,500.

Another.

$31,000.

Then another.

$42,000.

I stared at the numbers.

“How much?”

Daniel didn’t answer.

“Tell me.”

He turned a page.

“The total unauthorized withdrawals and transfers connected to your father exceed $380,000.”

My chair scraped backward.

“No.”

“There are more transactions.”

“That’s impossible.”

Daniel looked at me sadly.

“Your grandmother deposited money for decades.”

“But she didn’t have that kind of money.”

“She did.”

I remembered Grandma’s tiny house.

Her faded curtains.

Her secondhand furniture.

The way she counted coins before buying groceries.

The way she always said she couldn’t afford new shoes.

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