“The brass key is in an evidence bag at the prosecutor’s office.

They’ll bring it to court if they need it.”

“I don’t need to see it ever again.”

“Judge Raymond might ask you to identify it.”

I picked up the Buick title and held it by its edges.

At eight thirty Chloe sat on the floor in front of the sofa with a new sketch pad across her knees.

She held a blue crayon in one hand and a green one in the other.

I sat down with a cup of tea I never drank.