other was a man in a gray suit carrying a legal folder thick enough to break a table.
Richard set his beer down.
“What is this?” he said.
I didn’t answer. I didn’t need to.
Denise walked past me, up the porch steps, and handed Richard a single sheet of paper. He unfolded it with the slow, clumsy fingers of a man who already knows what bad news looks like.continue reading …
