“Just something to get the creditors off his back. We were going to pay it off before the first payment was even due.”

“With what money, Ethan? Ryan hasn’t held a job in eighteen months.”

“My mother is selling her property upstate,” he said.

“That cabin has been on the market for three years,” I said. “It is practically falling into the lake. It is worthless.”

The overhead light in the study flickered slightly.

Outside, a sharp gust of November wind sent dry leaves scratching against the windowpane.

I turned back to the laptop and clicked on the search bar in his email inbox.

I typed in *Janice Miller*.

Dozens of emails came up, sent between Ethan, his mother, and Janice.

I clicked on the most recent thread from two weeks ago.

The sender was Linda.

The text was stark and demanding.

*Janice said she will stamp the paperwork. Just get Sophia’s handwriting from one of her old journals. Make sure the slant of the signature matches.*

My stomach turned over.

They had gone through my personal things while I was out of the house.