“Daniel made it in a public space during a conversation Nathan chose to have publicly.
It’s admissible in this state.
Yes.”
I exhaled slowly.
“Get some sleep after you send me the statements,” Ruth said.
“I’ll review everything tonight and we’ll talk at nine.
This is manageable.
I’ve seen much worse with far less documentation.”
We hung up.
I pulled up the joint account online and started screenshotting.
The withdrawals went back further than I had expected.
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.
Ruth filed the initial paperwork on Monday morning.
