He pointed to a specific line highlighted in yellow.

“This account belongs to a shell company registered in Delaware,” my father said.

“And who owns the shell company?” John asked, not looking up from the page.

“Martin Collins,” my father said. “Using Claire’s maiden name as the registered agent.”

John turned another page, his brow furrowing.

“And the digital signatures?” John asked.

“Ethan extracted them from the server logs this afternoon,” my father said. “They match Martin’s personal IP address and Claire’s office credentials.”

John leaned back in his leather chair, taking off his glasses.

“This is grand larceny, Daniel,” John said. “It’s corporate espionage and wire fraud.”

“I know,” my father said.

“It’s enough to secure a warrant,” John said.

He picked up the black landline phone on his desk and dialed a three-digit extension.

“Get Detective Henderson in here,” John said into the receiver. “And tell him to bring the paperwork for a judge’s signature.”

He hung up the phone and looked at my father.

“We can move on this immediately,” John said.