“I won’t be cross-examined in my own living room.

You’ve been home three hours, and all you’ve done is go looking for faults.”

She reached over and clicked off the tall floor lamp beside the sofa, throwing the room into deep shadow.

“Dinner’s at eight,” she said from the dark hallway.

“Put your papers away.”

I stayed standing by the coffee table in the dim light from the kitchen doorway.

The altered bank statement lay flat on the wood, the zero balance printed in sharp black ink just under my father’s name.