A comfortable, fake peace had settled over us.

I knew that if I wanted to keep Walt in our lives, I could never confront him honestly about what he had taken from us.

The price of this truce was complete silence.

We parked in the driveway and went inside.

I went straight to the small wooden desk in the kitchen and pulled open the bottom drawer.

Inside was the separate bank folder, right next to the cream-colored envelope from Denver.

I picked up the envelope and ran my fingers over the heavy paper.