She pulled away slowly, the way people drive when they want you to watch them go.

I stood at the curb holding my keys.

The little brass key was still on the ring, and so was the spare to my front door.

The van went back to the lot at four, empty.

Olivia had a fresh pot of coffee going when I reached her office, and the file box from that morning sat on the corner of her desk.

She set the case down between us and didn’t push it toward me.