“Most of those expenses were going to be reimbursed after the county property tax assessments settle next month,” Mark said.

“You’re taking eleven months of complicated household accounting and framing it like a criminal audit.”

“I have the exact dates,” I said.

I stepped over to the open window of Carl’s old pickup, reached into the cab, and pulled out the worn spiral maintenance log my father kept on the dashboard.

I laid the maintenance log on top of a corn crate and opened my canvas work bag, pulling out the printed bank ledger sheets next to it.

“My father logs every three dollars of farm diesel in this notebook,” I said, tapping the grease-stained cover of Carl’s book with my thumb.