He moved the watch a little farther from the edge of the desk so I could set the letter beside it.

“Thank you for not asking me to pretend the lost years don’t matter,” I said.

“I don’t have the right to ask that.”

His office phone rang.

The investigator had requested a copy of a second phone record from Michael’s business.

They needed me to identify the date before they decided whether it belonged in the case file.

My attorney had left a message: call before I spoke to Michael again.

At the Carter kitchen, the chipped magnet still held the grocery receipt for $86.43.