“When?”
Michael looked confused.
“When what?”
“When did you give Linda access?”
“Years ago.”
“How many?”
“Five, maybe six.”
“Before we were married?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“My mother helped me when I started that consulting company. It was barely a company. I did small market studies for local businesses and property owners.”
Michael had been twenty-seven then. He used to work from coffee shops, carrying a battered laptop and talking endlessly about becoming independent. The business lasted less than a year before he accepted a full-time job.
“My mom handled invoices when I was busy,” he continued. “She had the password.”
“You never changed it?”
“I thought I did.”
“Did you close the account?”
“I stopped using it.”
“That is not the same thing.”
“I know.”
“I’m calling her.”
I faced the clock.
“Not yet.”
Michael stared at me.
“Why?”
“Because I want to understand what we actually know before we accuse anyone.”
