Thirty-Nine Million Dollars and a Brown Folder on the Kitchen Table

Ranata was digging for specific numbers for a reason.

I shoved the phone back into my pocket.

I didn’t turn the key yet.

The sun went down at five o’clock.

I was in the kitchen breaking down flat cardboard boxes when headlights swept across the front window.

The bright beams lit up the dust floating in the air.

I set down my box cutter.

A silver SUV pulled up near the back porch, its engine idling quietly.