Salem pushed the chair back from the desk. The wheels rolled across the wooden floor. He shook his head, ran his hands through his blond hair. He knew there were account numbers and a large number, possibly hundreds, maybe thousands of more images and video involved but he couldn’t open the files, couldn’t break the codes. Rhia sat on a ratty old but much-loved sofa with her head in her hands. Molly was in her room with headphones on, adding songs to playlists on Spotify.
Salem went to Rhia, put his arms around her. She was crying softly, he kissed her cheeks one at a time, and said, ‘What happened?’
She told him everything, the whole sad story. Then got up, fetched the cash from her room. Told him about the credit cards. But lied, telling him she had thrown both cards away.
He said, ‘I
