Clay pushed himself up off the carpet, his knees cracking in the quiet room.

“You don’t have to talk about her like she’s some kind of monster, Mom.”

“Officer Ray Vance sealed that heavy padlock in a yellow evidence bag four hours ago,” I said.

Clay stared down at the block tower, then kicked the top block off onto the rug.

“People make mistakes when they’re twenty-six.”

At four o’clock we sat at the yellow Formica dining table while rain trickled down the outside screen.

Clay spread three sheets of yellow lined notebook paper on the table between our coffee cups.