Without the stiff collar and the brass insignia, I looked like an ordinary, worn-out woman in her fifties.

I looked exactly like the helpless victim Glenn needed me to be.

I went back out to the parking lot.

The sun was starting to sink below the tree line, stretching long shadows across the painted parking lines.

In the morning Glenn would pull his truck into this lot.

He’d expect to find a beaten sister ready to give up her last tie to her family.

I pulled open the passenger door of the sedan.