Thursday, December 4.

David had clipped on a cover sheet with the sheriff’s civil unit number printed in bold black type.

I put the folder into the suitcase first, flat against the back.

Then I packed everything else: two blouses, a pair of jeans, and the black heels I’d worn to the bank.

I checked the closet twice.

On the second pass I found a sock under the desk and threw it in the trash.

My phone buzzed on the nightstand.