I’d picked up his call with a soft smile, sure the worst was behind me.

“I traced the routing number on that cashier’s check,” Arthur said.

The soft smile disappeared from my face in an instant.

I drove straight from the base perimeter road to the strip mall.

The lot was empty except for a delivery van parked by the dumpster.

I shut off the engine of my aging sedan and walked through the glass door of the law office without knocking.

Arthur Vance was standing behind the reception desk holding a single sheet of printer paper.