“You don’t owe me a dime, Mara,” he said, his Southern drawl slow and even.

“I let an unfiled custody affidavit sit in my own file cabinet for thirty-four years.”

“You didn’t know Gene had paid off the deputy clerk back in 1990,” I said.

“I should have looked harder when Frank disappeared with you,” Howard said, resting his hand on the Buick’s window frame.

“Call this a long-overdue professional correction.”

He leaned past me and nodded at Claire in the passenger seat.

“You’ve got a fine daughter, Claire,” he said.