“That’s the last thing that goes in here.”

Which wasn’t true.

Two more boxes of diapers sat in the hall, along with a bag of clothes Clara had already outgrown.

The doorbell rang at half past two.

Samantha Vance stood on the porch with a slim folder and the look she gets before she says a number.

“The plea’s been entered,” she said.

“Fraud and unlawful entry.

Two years’ probation, restitution of forty-one thousand two hundred at four hundred a month, and he surrenders the company car.”