“The offshore account,” Dominic said, his voice shaking slightly.

“What about it?” I asked.

He pointed a finger at the screen, where a small PDF document had just finished downloading.

“The monthly statements for Blue Horizon,” he said. “They aren’t going to a bank.”

“Where are they going?” I asked.

Dominic looked out the window at the rain, his face completely blank.

“They’re being routed directly to a private wealth management account,” he said. “Under a name we both know.”

He turned the screen toward me.

In the dim light of the cabin, I read the name printed at the top of the statement.

The screen flickered as a new email notification popped up at the bottom of the display.

The name printed in clean, sans-serif type at the top of the statement was one I had hoped never to see again.

Honorable Richard Whitmore.

He was the federal judge who had signed our divorce decree five years ago.

The same judge who had recently been assigned to the new custody filing my ex-mother-in-law had initiated.

“Whitmore,” I whispered, the word cold and heavy on my tongue.