Two years and four months ago.

Not a single dollar has come back.”

Trent came in off the porch with the notice crumpled in his fist.

“You’ve got nothing on my mother.”

“Her name’s on the lease and her name’s on the account.

My paychecks covered the rent on that condo, the furniture in it, and the car seat in her car.”

“You’d send my mother to federal prison,” he said, “over thirty-five hundred dollars a month?”

I shut the folder and lined its edge up with the tile.