His thumb hovered over the screen, searching for a cancel button.

The interface was password-protected, and the progress bar crept to fifty-eight percent.

“He must have scheduled this to trigger if he didn’t check in, or he initiated it from his phone in his pocket right before the handcuffs went on,” Vance muttered.

“Can we stop it?” I asked.

“I need to call the bank’s fraud department immediately,” Vance said.

He pulled his phone from his suit pocket.

He began dialing a direct number he kept in his contacts.

From the living room, Linda’s weeping grew louder, turning into a high-pitched wail.

I ignored her.

I watched Vance’s face as he spoke into his phone, his voice sharp and commanding.

“This is Vance Miller,” he said. “I need the security division for account freeze operations.”

He gave the account numbers from memory.

“We have an active unauthorized wire transfer in progress,” he said. “The account holder is currently in police custody.”

He paused, listening.

The blue progress bar on the tablet hit seventy percent.

“Yes, I will hold,” Vance said.

He tapped his fingers against the granite counter.