I sat in the chair next to him, watching him initial the bottom of each page.

His hand didn’t shake as he wrote.

“Does Linda know you’re signing this today?” I asked him when Brenda stepped out to copy his driver’s license in the back room.

“She doesn’t,” Ethan said.

“And she won’t be getting a key or a tour of the second bedroom.”

He leaned back in his chair, staring at the empty spot where the agent had been sitting.

“She thinks I’m staying in the guest bedroom on Elm Street until November while I look for warehouse work.”