Three Days Before the Casket Was Delivered, My Son Asked Me to Sign a Document
“Then what am I supposed to do?” I asked.
“Write down every last detail,” Arthur said.
“Dates, times, the exact words Julian and Victoria say.”
“A notebook won’t keep her safe today,” I said.
“It’ll lay the groundwork if we have to file a formal custody petition,” Arthur said.
“Call me the second you see anything else,” he said.
I pressed the red button on the dashboard screen and laid the phone on the passenger seat.
Cold winter rain began falling on the Buick’s windshield, the drops trickling down the glass in slow gray streaks.
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