father had stolen from my father.
And all these years later, she had started stealing from my mother.
I felt physically sick.
“She knew?”
Mom shook her head.
“I don’t think she knew everything.”
Harold added, “Her father’s crimes were never public.”
“Then how did she know how to access Mom’s accounts?”
Detective Ramirez, who had been silent, finally spoke.
“She didn’t figure it out on her own.”
I turned.
“What?”
He put a photograph on the table.
It came from security footage outside Mom’s bank.
Vanessa stood beside a man.
Tall.
Gray-haired.
His face partly turned toward the camera.
I didn’t recognize him.
Mom did.
The color vanished from her face.
“That’s impossible.”
“Who is he?” I asked.
Mom stared at the image.
Her lips trembled.
Harold stood so quickly his chair scraped the floor.
“No.”
Detective Ramirez looked between them.
“You know him?”
Harold’s voice was barely audible.
“
