Madison smirked.
“Dad drove it to his place.”
“Did you give him the keys?”
“Yes.”
“Anything else?”
Her smile widened.
“The spare too.”
Laura stepped toward me.
“Ethan, please. Don’t turn this into some police situation.”
I looked at her.
Interesting choice of words.
Because neither of them knew something important.
Six months earlier, my company had promoted me to regional fraud investigator. Vehicle-title fraud, forged financial documents, fraudulent transfers—I dealt with them constantly.
And Madison hadn’t just taken my keys.
She had apparently opened the locked drawer in my office.
I knew because the drawer holding my vehicle documents sat slightly crooked.
I walked inside and opened it.
The title folder was gone.
Behind me, Madison said smugly, “You can’t take it back anyway.”
I turned slowly.
“Why not?”
