"I don't know."
He had spent his career knowing that uncertainty honestly stated was more useful than certainty invented.
One Thursday evening, Natalie called.
"I found the savings route."
Roger put down the tape measure he had been using to hang a shelf in the apartment. "How much?"
"Enough that we need to revise the timeline."
He sat at the small kitchen counter.
Natalie explained. Several withdrawals from the Barry savings account had moved through an account controlled by Kimberly before reaching K&W Residential Partners. The timing corresponded with contractor invoices and carrying costs.
"Could those still be legitimate investments?" Roger asked.
"That isn't my determination."
"Right."
"My determination is where the money went."
Roger rubbed his thumb along the edge of the counter. "How much from savings?"
Natalie gave him the preliminary figure.
Roger closed his eyes for two seconds. Not because the number would ruin him. It wouldn't.
Because he remembered Kimberly sitting across from him at dinner discussing whether they should postpone replacing the deck. She had said they should be careful with savings.
That was during the same period.
Roger opened his eyes. "Send it to Amanda."
"Already did."
The next discovery production arrived the following Monday. This one included business emails from K&W Residential Partners.
Roger did not read them casually. Amanda's office identified which materials were relevant. Most were boring.
Contractor scheduling. Permit delays. Invoices. Material shortages.
One email chain showed Jason pushing for cheaper flooring. Another showed Kimberly discussing a refinancing timeline. Roger read without imagining conversations that were not there.
Then Amanda called.
"There's one email I want you to see."
She sent the page. Roger opened it. The exchange was dated seven months before he found Jason in the house.
Kimberly had written about needing additional money for contractor overruns. Jason responded. The first paragraph concerned financing.
The second concerned timing. Then one sentence.
Roger read it.
"Daniel never checks anything."
He stared at the screen. Wrong name.
For a second, he wondered whether he had opened the wrong file. Then Amanda called back.
"Roger, I'm here."
"You saw it?"
"He called me Daniel."
Amanda was silent. Then Roger understood the email extraction had attached a separate fragment from another thread or the name had been inserted incorrectly in the produced record.
He zoomed in.
Amanda checked the original. "Hold on."
Keyboard sounds.
"That's an extraction error from the review copy. The underlying email says Roger."
Roger waited. Amanda resent the verified page.
This time, the line was clear.
"Roger never checks anything."
He read it once. Then again.
The sentence hurt more than an insult should have. Not because Jason thought Roger was stupid. Because the sentence revealed an assumption.
Roger was predictable. Roger trusted Kimberly. Roger paid bills without interrogating every purchase. Roger went to work.
Roger came home. Roger believed his wife when she said a small investment didn't matter. Somewhere, that trust had apparently become a joke.
Roger printed the email. The printer in his apartment made a mechanical grinding sound. The page slid out.
He placed it on the counter. For several seconds, he imagined Jason at the fundraising dinner.
Firm handshake. Friendly smile.
"Appreciate the engineer recommendation."
Roger could have called him. The number was still in his phone. He could have asked what kind of man stood in another man's house, drank his wine, used his bedroom, and joked about his ignorance.