“I owe money, Liz,” Daniel whispered. “A lot of money.”

“To whom?” I asked.

“To people Michael knows,” he said. “The kind of people who don’t go to court.”

“They’re going to break my legs, Liz,” he said, his voice trembling. “Or worse.”

I rubbed my temples, feeling the dull throb of my concussion returning.

“How much do you owe, Daniel?” I asked.

“Three hundred thousand,” he said.

The number hung in the air between us, heavy and toxic.

“I don’t have that kind of liquidity, Daniel,” I said. “And I wouldn’t give it to you if I did.”

“I’m not asking you for the money,” Daniel said quickly.

“Then what are you asking for?” I asked.

“Michael,” Daniel said. “Michael has the money.”

“He told me he would clear the entire debt today,” Daniel said.

“All of it,” he repeated. “He will pay them off directly.”

“On what condition?” I asked, though I already knew the answer.

“You have to sign a statement,” Daniel said.

“An affidavit saying the injury was an accident,” he said. “That you tripped and fell into the hutch.”