“You took the long way,” David said.

He stopped tapping his ring and pressed his hand flat on the glass.

“The mileage on the log sheet in the glove box is nineteen miles more than it was yesterday.”

“I missed my turn on Oak Creek Drive,” I said.

David leaned forward over his plate.

He dropped his voice to a whisper that made the space between us feel small and cold.

“You’ll stay off Highway Nine if you know what’s good for our budget,” David said.