Hollis came at eleven in a clean truck with his boy along for a witness, and he signed on the tailgate with a pen that did not want to write on wood.

“I should have stood with you,” he said, and his chin went.

“Sign the second page.”

He signed it.

Frank put the copy in the glove box and shut it, and the boy got back in the truck without a word.

“Talks less than his father,” Frank said.

Then he took an envelope out of his shirt pocket with the state seal on the corner and handed it over.

“Came yesterday.