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Rick leans forward. He reads down the page without touching it, then sits back and adjusts one cuff.

“The third looks familiar,” he says. “I would need to check the others against our records.”

“Why does that one look familiar?” Cassie asks.

“I review many files. I don’t want to give you the wrong information.”

“Connor wrote your initials beneath them.” She places her finger below the final number. “Can you tell me why?”

Rick’s eyes stay on the page. When he lifts his face, the bank manager from a moment ago is gone. He looks at Cassie as though he’s been reluctant to bring her difficult news.

“I hoped to speak with you privately,” he says. “I didn’t expect to find you here today.”

“You can speak in front of Andrei,” Cassie replies.

Rick turns his attention to me. “The bank has begun reviewing Connor’s involvement with some of the loans under question.”

Cassie draws her hand back from the book. “His involvement how?”

“We haven’t reached a conclusion. I want to make that clear.”

“Then what have you found?” she pushes.

Rick’s face tightens with apparent regret. “There are records he had access to that we need to examine. I’ve defended Connor every time anyone has raised a concern about him, but I can’t prevent the bank from asking questions.”

Yesterday, he told Cassie he had arranged for the fraud team to monitor Connor’s accounts because she reported him missing. Today, he talks about an inquiry into Connor himself. He hasn’t said who began it or when.

“You recognized one of the numbers,” I say. “Tell us what account it belongs to.”

“I need to verify that before I answer.”

“Is it among the loans the bank is reviewing?”

“I can’t say without the file in front of me.” Rick turns back to Cassie. “I know how hard this must be to hear.”

“I’m asking you for facts,” she says, her fingers pressed against the book’s cover. “You’re telling me Connor might have done something wrong and asking me to be grateful you waited to say it.”

A hint of color reaches Rick’s face. “That isn’t what I’m asking.”

“Then tell me what you know,” she demands.

He rests both palms on the table. “An investigator I hired after you reported Connor missing found his car this morning. It was parked near a ferry terminal. There was a bag inside, packed with clothes and cash.”

Cassie goes still. Reid looks at me, but I keep my attention on Rick.

“Which terminal?” I ask.

“Edmonds. North of the city, on the Kingston run.”

I close the folder in front of me. “Where near it?”

Rick reaches for his notes. “A garage two blocks up from the dock.”

“Who found it?” I press.

“The investigator. I hired him because I wanted to do more than wait for news.” Rick turns toward Cassie. “He called me after he confirmed the plate.”

“You found out this morning?” Cassie asks. She grips the edge of Connor’s book.