“I installed a hidden camera in the porch light fixture before I deployed,” Jake said, turning the screen toward the deputy.

The screen showed a crystal-clear playback of Walter snatching my keys and pushing me out onto the snowy porch an hour ago.

The deputy’s expression shifted immediately as he stared at the digital screen.

“Well, sir,” the deputy said, looking directly at Walter. “That looks like reckless endangerment.”

Just then, the phone in Jake’s hand began to vibrate violently.

The screen lit up with an incoming call from Major Rebecca Hayes.

Jake swiped the screen of his phone and pressed the speaker icon.

Major Hayes’s voice cut through the tense silence of the foyer, crisp and loud.

“Jake, I have the preliminary forensic audit from the bank,” she said.

The deputy watched us, his notepad still poised in his hand.

“Go ahead, Rebecca,” Jake said, his eyes never leaving his father’s face.

“Logan cleared out your primary trust account yesterday morning,” Hayes said.

“He transferred exactly four hundred and eighty thousand dollars to an offshore shell company in the Cayman Islands.”