Caroline looked past him at the high stained glass windows overlooking Bellevue Avenue.

She reached up and touched the silver chain around her neck, letting her fingertips rest against the cold metal link.

“You just said you were never informed,” Caroline said.

“Because I wasn’t,” Grant said.

“You took your fourteen-thousand-dollar settlement and walked away.”

Caroline opened the brass latch of her black leather clutch purse.

She pulled out a small, folded paper slip, worn along the creases and faded to a dull olive shade.

“What is that supposed to be?” Grant asked.