“Where’s your winter coat?” Sarah asked right away.

Her car keys jangled in her fleece jacket pocket as she looked me over.

“It’s hanging on the brass hook by the front door in Oak Creek,” I said.

“Where’s your purse?”

“He took it,” I said.

“He took my wallet, my driver’s license and my main key ring.”

Sarah looked down at my hands, then at my dark jeans, where the white flour showed in faint powdery streaks around my back pocket.

“How did you drive over here without your keys?” she asked.