Standing behind Dustin was a woman in a navy blazer, still wearing a name badge from my credit union. Kendra Fields, Member Services. The same Kendra from the messages. I had sat across from her desk at least a dozen times, depositing birthday checks and overtime pay, while she smiled and complimented my children’s names. She was the one who had processed every withdrawal from their account.

Ingrid didn’t hesitate. She opened the door with her phone already recording. Dustin stepped forward, demanding his things, but stopped when he saw the boxes and the new lock. Kendra stayed in the hallway, staring at the floor. Ingrid held up the withdrawal form. “Ms. Fields,” she said calmly, “you notarized this signature. Was Rosalie standing in front of you when it was signed?”