Clara leaned over my shoulder and read the name signed at the bottom of the page.

“Does he really think three hundred store shares can buy your silence?” Clara asked.

“He thinks every hard truth comes with a price tag,” I said.

I tucked the folded note into my coat pocket and turned the new brass key in the lock.

The latch slid back smoothly into the doorframe without sticking.

“We can carry the rest of your file boxes into the sunroom now,” Clara said.

She lifted a cardboard box off the porch swing and carried it over the threshold into the hall.