Julian reached into my coat pocket, took out my leather wallet, and flipped through the clear plastic slots.

He slid out my credit cards, debit cards, and checkbook, leaving a single bill in the plastic sleeve.

“There’s seventy dollars cash in there,” Julian said.

“That’ll cover a motel room or a bus ticket out of Oak Creek.”

He stepped back into the hall and pushed the front door shut until the latch clicked into the frame.

The deadbolt turned from the inside with a dull metallic slide.

Cold rain soaked through the wool of my coat before I reached the bottom porch step.