Wayne put his glasses back on and studied her a beat longer than the sentence called for.

“The prosecutor’s office wants your affidavit by four,” he said, and shoved his chair back.

“Mark Vance’s office?”

“His office.

He’s got a two o’clock with the other side.” Wayne got up.

“Bring your own pen.”

By three forty Sarah Vance had the paperwork spread across her desk, three copies, the carbon paper between them gone gray at the corners.

Claire signed the affidavit first, at the foot of the second page, then wrote the date under her name, since the form asked for it twice.