I folded the onesies and laid them in the suitcase.

I was still their mother.

Nothing about the address on a motel key changed that.

PART 4 — Ten Thousand Dollars

Patrick found me outside the room the following morning.

His midnight-blue suit looked oddly formal against peeling motel paint.

He walked toward me slowly, as if he had arranged this encounter for a client who needed careful handling.

“We should talk.”