“Did he say which bank?”
Jessica nodded.
“Our bank.”
Robert came out of the workshop with the copied documents in his hand.
“Mr.Harris,” he said carefully, “you need to call your bank and ask whether any account was opened in your name three years ago.”
My phone was already in my hand.
Before I could dial, another message appeared on Jessica’s screen.
Tell Michael to check the account he opened for his parents.
The money didn’t disappear.
It was moved.
I read the message twice.
Then I remembered the account.
Six years earlier, after buying the farmhouse, I had opened a separate account for property taxes, insurance, and medical expenses.
I had given my parents access, but because I was living in Chicago, I had added Jessica as an authorized manager to help with automatic payments.
I had not checked the statements in nearly four years.
I had believed the monthly transfers were enough.
