“Numbers she didn’t understand,” I said back, slowly, the way you repeat a bad order to be sure it was given.

“Ask the bank.

Ask anyone you like.” She stood and left the second cup behind, and Deb threw it away without being asked.

The door had barely shut before I had the pad out and the curtain pulled halfway, so the window light fell flat across the page.

I tilted the notebook until the paper went silver.

The pen on the missing page had pressed hard enough to leave a groove.

The shapes came up slowly, word by word, like chalk rubbed across a carving.