For Seven Years I Sent Forty Thousand Dollars Every January, Until Emma Finally Spoke
I didn’t want to see black-and-white photos of the pavement.
“Listen here, Howard,” I said.
“I can’t look at pictures of her car.”
“We’re only reviewing the administrative paperwork, Arthur,” Howard said.
“Look at page four.”
Howard pointed a thick finger at a blank space near the bottom of a carbon copy form.
The form listed all the debris recovered from the asphalt.
He pointed out that the vehicle inspection tag from the Highway 24 report was completely missing.