The second came outside.
Three television cameras waited on the courthouse steps.
I walked past them.
No speech.
No celebration.
Trish wasn’t so lucky.
Residents surrounded her.
Somebody shouted, “Where’s the $1.8 million?”
Another shouted, “Did you forge the contract?”
Bradley stepped between her and the cameras.
Rachel guided me toward her SUV.
“You handled that well.”
“I didn’t do anything.”
“Exactly.”
We were halfway to the parking lot when someone called my name.
Linda Price.
She stood beside a pickup I didn’t recognize.
Dark circles beneath her eyes.
Ben Holloway stood with her.
She held an envelope.
“I found something they didn’t take.”
Rachel and I stopped.
“What?”
Linda handed her the envelope.
“Months ago, when the transfers started, I began copying records.”
“Where did you keep them?”
“My sister’s house.”
Rachel opened the envelope.
Bank statements.
Emails.
Board resolutions.
Then a map.
She unfolded it across the hood of her SUV.
