The proceeds went to an account I had never seen.

They live in a rental on the edge of Eaton. I found it through the same public records, and I drove out from Dayton on a Thursday morning without calling ahead, because I did not want to give them the chance to arrange themselves.

Shirley opened the door.

She is seventy-six now. She had gotten small, in the way that happens fast, and she stood in the doorway of a rented duplex with her hand on the frame and looked at me for a long moment and said:

“Have you come to gloat?”

“No.”