“He had the login from the tax filings last autumn,” I said.
“The bank flagged it because of the sudden destination change,” Julian said. “But the authorization was already complete.”
“And the suite in Miami?” I asked.
“Paid in cash,” Julian said. “The exact amount of the medical recovery fund you wired to your mother’s account for Maya’s physical therapy and nurse visits.”
“There are three cash withdrawals,” Julian said, pointing to the second page of the statement. “Each for four thousand dollars, made at the bank branch on Atlantic Avenue. The final two thousand was taken out at the airport terminal.”
“The signatures on those withdrawal slips?” I asked.
“Your mother’s,” Julian said. “She did not even try to hide it. She signed her own name as the primary trustee of the recovery fund.”
A cold knot tightened in my chest. “She gave it to him.”
