The porch hadn’t been swept in weeks.

A dead wasp lay next to the doormat, and nobody had picked it up.

Derek’s wrists were cuffed in front of him.

He kept tapping his watch against the cuff, a small metallic tick that came and went.

Patricia clutched her purse to her chest with both arms.

Her silver cardigan hung open, and the buttons she’d been fiddling with were still undone.

“Derek Nolan,” Bell said, “you’re under arrest for grand fraud and child endangerment.” He recited the rest in a steady voice without rushing.