Russell nodded.
“That may be true,” he said. “It may be exactly what that code means. That’s the problem with copies. They don’t tell you everything.” He took off his glasses. “We need the original records, Rebecca. The bank’s actual logs. Not somebody’s conclusions drawn from a printout.”
He gave me an assignment.
“Go home,” he said, “and reconstruct the whole thing. Every single day you can remember, from the time Loretta got sick until the day you were arrested. Every hospital visit. Every phone call with Trevor or Monica. Every time you logged in to the company system. Every time you signed something. Write it all down. In order. Don’t skip anything because it seems small.”
For three evenings, after I’d washed the supper dishes and Opal had gone to bed, I sat at her kitchen
table and rebuilt my life.
I used a calendar I bought at the drugstore. A big paper one with a box for every day. I filled in what I could remember. Then I asked Opal if I could use her computer, and I went through Loretta’s old Facebook page, which was still up, and found photographs she’d posted from the hospital. Dates. Captions. Becky brought me the good pudding today! Day 3 of round 2.
