Arthur leaned over the table, placing his palms flat on the wood.

“And because your father’s name is listed as a secondary signee on that dummy corporation, it means conspiracy,” Arthur added.

Richard’s face lost what little color it had left.

“That is an unproven allegation,” Miller said, though his voice lacked conviction.

“We have the certified bank logs from three hours ago, Miller,” Arthur replied.

He slid a second copy of the document across the table.

Miller picked it up, his eyes scanning the columns of numbers rapidly.

The defense attorney sighed, his shoulders dropping.

He turned to look at Daniel, then at Richard.

“We need a moment,” Miller said.

“You don’t have a moment,” I said.

Daniel looked at me, his eyes rimmed with red, a desperate, hollow look on his face.

“Emily, please,” he whispered. “We can talk about this. Just you and me.”

“There is nothing left to talk about,” I said.

The air in the room felt thin, smelling of stale paper and the chemical lemon scent of the cleaning solution they used on the desks.