Kelsey looked at his face, then down at the folder.

She walked to the front of the SUV, stepping into the bright, white glare of her high beams.

She opened the damp folder.

The paper was soft from the humidity, but the ink was still dark and clear.

I watched her face as she turned the first page.

The white light showed every line of tension around her mouth.

“What is ‘Ridgecrest Holdings’?” she asked, her voice dropping.

“It’s a shell company,” I said. “Trevor set it up six months ago.”

“It’s a standard development vehicle,” Trevor yelled over the sound of the rain. “For the cabin property!”

“It isn’t just for the cabin,” I said, looking directly at Kelsey. “He used your personal savings account as the primary collateral to secure the initial loan.”

Kelsey froze.

She didn’t look up from the page.

“No,” she said. “That account requires my signature.”

“Turn to page three,” I said.

The wind swept a gust of rain across the road, shaking the branches above us.

Kelsey turned the page, her wet fingers tearing the corner of the paper.