Seven Crumpled Dollar Bills on a Pine Table in Michigan

sedan, where a white slip of paper was tucked under the wiper blade.

He pulled the paper free and unfolded it, his eyes tracking the sharp, demanding handwriting.

“This is not about the apartment,” Mike said, his voice dropping into a low rumble.

“He knows we went to the bank,” Sarah said. “He knows everything we did yesterday.”

Mike continue reading …