On Thursday afternoon, the wind kicked up across the parking lot outside the downtown post office.

Tom was behind the iron counter, weighing a square package for a man in a brown work jacket.

When the man walked away, Tom wiped the glass top of the scale with a yellow cloth and looked up at me.

“What can I do for you today, Clara?” Tom asked.

I took a heavy manila envelope out of my tote and set it on the flat metal counter.

Inside were forty-four pages of certified legal filings, bank release forms and the official police report from Detective Lewis.