I laid three heavy three-ring binders side by side across the wood.

The first held the fourteen-page timeline of bruises and incidents.

The second held the bank statements showing the forty-one-thousand-two-hundred-dollar transfer and the emptied credit union account.

The third held the backdated draft settlement release Patricia had tried to trick me into signing.

Across the room, Emma sat quietly on a small braided rug, holding Barnaby by his left ear while she colored a green butterfly in her workbook.

My cell phone buzzed on the counter next to the toaster.