The car swung hard onto the street.

Two black arcs stayed on the wet asphalt.

The bank receipt was still folded in my coat pocket when Arthur pulled into the Lakeview driveway the next morning.

Two ruts in the gravel had dried where Dustin’s car had torn out.

Arthur shut off the engine and took a brown envelope from his briefcase.

“I made a copy.

The original stays in your pocket.”

I rubbed my right wrist.