“I have to get to my car, Evelyn,” I said, using her first name as I had done for three years.

“Your father is going to be indicted,” she said, stepping into my path.

“The lawyer just came out and told me.

They are talking about witness tampering, Mara.

He could lose the shop.”

“He should have thought about the shop before he put a tracker on my car,” I said.

She reached into the paper bag and pulled out a small, tarnished silver frame.

Inside was the black-and-white photograph of my grandmother sitting on the porch of the old house, her hands folded in her lap.