He pushed the typed paper at me, along with two crisp hundred-dollar bills.

“Sign the release, Becky, and we can act like none of this ever happened,” he whispered.

I took the typed letter out of the envelope and looked at the heading.

“What’s this for?”

“It’s a bonus for your six years here,” Dale said.

“And an agreement that you’ll drop your state labor board complaint about the missing pay stubs.”

“I’ll take it home and read it,” I said.

Dale tugged his belt buckle again, his jaw clenching.