The headlights lit up the dark wall of the hay barn and the frozen galvanized trough by the gate.

I pulled the handbrake up until it clicked four times.

I gripped the steering wheel with both hands, staring into the dark farmyard while the idling engine rattled the keys against the dash.

The engine ticked once when I shut it off, and I left the keys in the truck.

By eight the next morning Evelyn Thorne, the hospital advocate, stood in my kitchen with a manila folder against her coat.

She set the folder on the oilcloth and pulled out yellow carbon forms.