“It’s all here,” Collins said quietly, watching it on his tablet.

“Every blow.”

“I know.

I counted.”

He didn’t arrest Trevor at my gate.

Trevor, to his credit or his cowardice, had already driven away.

But by evening there was a warrant, and by nine o’clock Howard was sitting in my kitchen with a thermos of coffee and a very old, very tired look.

“I need to talk to you about the trust,” he said.