“They think you’re here to apologize and pay.”

On the little screen, Camden squared his shoulders and smirked at the front door, and then he lifted his fist and pounded on it.

“Sloan!

Open up!

Mom and I are here to settle this like adults.”

I stood in my own front hallway holding three things: the blue folder, the signed protective order, and one more envelope that had arrived that morning from the bank.

Behind me, in the foyer, stood Darcy and a uniformed police officer, quietly, out of view of the door.