“You cannot afford the lawyers it takes to keep him, Claire.”

There was no signature.

The writing looked like Ronald’s.

I could not prove who had left it merely by recognizing the style.

I photographed it where I found it, put it in an envelope, and told Frank.

My first impulse had been to crumple it.

Preserving it did not mean I had to read it repeatedly.

I put the envelope away and ate the sandwich I had bought because my hands were shaking from more than fear.