“What did Frank tell you?” I asked.

Claire paused for a long moment, her silver hair catching the dim light from the window.

“He told me if I brought the sheriff to his house to enforce the judge’s order, I’d never see your face again,” she said.

“He said he had three thousand dollars in cash in his truck and a full tank of gas.”

I turned to page forty-two of the record, where Frank’s original testimony was typed out in tight double-spaced lines.

He had sworn under oath that Claire had walked out of our apartment three months earlier without leaving a forwarding address.