Evelyn stared at her hands for a long moment, and when she finally spoke, her voice was steady in the way of someone who had repeated a story in her head until it became either armor or confession. “I didn’t kill him,” she said. “But I’m accused of it. And of stealing money that was already stolen.”
Wade waited, letting silence do what pressure couldn’t. “I worked as a teller at Albright & Hume Bank in San Antonio,” she began. “Six months ago I noticed discrepancies. Depositors’ funds moving in ways that didn’t make sense. Small amounts at first, hidden under complicated entries, the kind no one checks unless they’re looking.”
“And you looked,” Wade said.
“I did,” Evelyn replied, bitterness flashing. “The bank’s senior partner, Gideon Hume, was embezzling. Not alone. His associate, Reed Mercer, helped move the money through shell accounts. I thought if I gathered evidence, I could force them to stop. I was naive enough to believe truth mattered on its own.”
Wade’s jaw tightened. “What
