He had brought no lawyer.

And he assumed I was there to beg.

“All right, Robert,” he said, crossing his legs.

“Let’s put an end to all this childish drama.”

I said nothing.

Sam opened a black folder and began, politely, to ask questions — about the townhouse, about the truck, about the nine hundred and twenty-seven thousand dollars moved out of Gaby’s account over eight months.

And with each question, Derek’s confidence cracked a little further, because he had answers ready for a frightened old man and none at all for a lawyer with documents.