I pressed my hand against the cold glass of the window pane.

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“I mean we have proof of two distinct sets of books,” Robert said.

“One set went to the IRS to show minimal profit on the initial phase of the waterfront development.”

“The other set, the handwritten ones from his personal desk, shows the actual payments from the buyers.”

The wind gusted outside, rattling the loose frame of the kitchen window.

“How much of a difference are we talking about?” I asked.

“Over three million dollars,” Robert said.

I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding.

“That’s not an accounting error,” I whispered.

“No,” Robert said. “It is deliberate tax fraud.”

I looked back at the hallway that led to the children’s bedrooms.

Lily’s nightlight cast a faint pink glow onto the hardwood floor.

“If the IRS gets hold of these,” I said, “what happens to Daniel?”

“He faces criminal charges,” Robert said. “Federal liability.”

“The penalties and interest alone would ruin him financially.”

I rubbed my forehead, feeling a dull ache beginning to form behind my eyes.