She slid the paper across the high counter, pointing her pen at the bottom of the third page.

The text was dense, typed in a small, clean font that detailed my family’s visit to the hospital parking garage.

It stated clearly that Arthur Whitmore had demanded I lie to the police about Caleb’s location on Tuesday night.

I took the pen and signed my name on the line.

The ink was black, drying quickly against the rough paper.

Mrs.