“You offered me two thousand in my own kitchen after you’d stolen twelve,” I said.

Brad looked over at Vance, but Vance turned his face away and stared at the dark wooden frame of the office door.

“What do you want, Amy?” Brad asked.

His right hand lay flat on the glass table, his fingers completely still.

“I’ll sign anything you put in front of me, Amy, just don’t send me to jail.”

Patricia reached into her leather briefcase, took out three stapled pages of legal paper, and set them right in front of Vance.

“These are the terms for a civil settlement,” Patricia said.