If I had handed that register over to him tonight, it would have been in his office shredder before midnight.

“We’re still family above everything,” his voice echoed in my head, cold and hollow as an empty bucket.

I walked over to the door and turned the small brass lock until it clicked into place.

I went back to the bed, pulled the yellow legal pads out from under the top cover, and stacked them neatly together.

I unzipped the soft fabric slit along the bottom edge of the box spring, reached deep into the dark space between the coils, and slid my checkbook register inside the lining.

The phone on my nightstand buzzed against the lamp base at a quarter past five.