Rachel zoomed out.
The document beneath it was mostly obscured.
A hand held the upper corner.
Derek’s hand, Rachel thought.
A gold wedding band would have made it Scott’s, but there was no ring.
Derek never wore one.
She clicked again.
This photograph had been taken through glass.
Rachel knew that before she understood what she was seeing because fluorescent ceiling lights floated pale across the upper half of the image.
A room beyond.
Metal shelving.
Cardboard boxes.
A folding table.
Derek stood beside it.
His face was turned in profile.
Both hands were occupied.
Rachel leaned forward until her knees pressed against the desk.
On the table lay bundles of cash.
Not a few bills.
Bundles.
Thick, rectangular stacks banded in paper, arranged beside two dark canvas bags.
Rachel recognized the bags.
Scott’s company used them for deposits.
She had seen Scott carry one into their kitchen a dozen times when he stopped home between the warehouse and the bank. Navy canvas, brass zipper, company tag stitched onto the side.
