I took a picture and left it where it was.” She was typing with the phone against her shoulder.

“It says county.

It has your name and Dad’s name and a case number and the word lien.”

A boarding group was called across the terminal.

The couple with the baby began gathering their things, and I was still ninety miles from home.

“Don’t touch it,” I said.

“I’ll be there by six.”

The taxi let me out at six with my suitcase at the curb, and Lynn was already on the porch with Biscuit’s leash wound twice around her wrist.