I looked.
“That form template wasn’t issued by your bank until September,” he said.
“Someone filled out a June form on a September template.”
“They backdated it.”
“They backdated it badly.”
I sat very still.
“Why didn’t my attorney catch that?”
“Because your attorney was looking at the signature. Everybody looks at the signature. Nobody looks at the paper.”
He picked up the h*spital sign-in sheets.
“These are good. Very good. Timestamped. Witnessed by a floor nurse. You were on the fourth floor of Riverside Methodist on June 14th from 7:10 a.m. to 9:40 p.m.”
“The first Meridian transfer was authorized at 2:22 p.m. from the office terminal.”
“You weren’t at the office.”
“I was holding Marjorie’s hand while they changed her line.”
“Then whoever authorized it was sitting at your desk.”
“Rachel, I need two more things.”
“Name them.”
“The notebook with the license plate. And whatever your sister said to you in that yard. Word for word.”
