My Husband Told Our Daughter to Keep Her Clinic Visits Hidden From Our Bank Account

I looked closely at the metal plate.

The brass was bright and shiny, with none of the little scratches that had marked our old lock.

I went around the side of the house and stepped under the garage overhang.

I keyed our four-digit family code into the keypad on the wall.

A solid red light flashed twice.

I punched in the numbers again, pressing the rubber buttons harder.

Red light again.