He left the money lying on the page.

The green stack of hundred-dollar bills lay on top of Michael’s open custody binder.

Michael folded the hundreds into a white bank envelope.

He locked the envelope in his sedan’s glove box and turned the silver key.

At ten the next morning he pulled up to the curb outside the rental house on Maple Street.

He checked the time on his phone.

He carried Noah’s heavy blue overnight bag and the forty-five-dollar blue plastic booster seat up the wooden front steps.