His voice sank into the tight, dry whisper he used when he wanted the walls to stay quiet.

“The loan officer at the credit union called my desk at four fifteen.

They want the signed quitclaim deed on their desk before six o’clock tonight.”

“Vance said I’m supposed to get seventy-two hours to review the tax liabilities,” I said.

“There are four separate pages of title releases in that manila folder, and my name is on every one.”

David tapped his gold wedding band against the glass top of the kitchen table.