“What do you want, Rachel?” he asked, his voice cracking. “Just tell me what you want.”

“I want what is fair,” I said. “And I want what is legal.”

“We can settle this privately,” he pleaded. “We don’t need lawyers. We don’t need the police. If this goes public, my business partners will pull out. The Whitmore name will be dirt in Denver.”

“The Whitmore name is already dirt, Daniel,” I said. “You just haven’t smelled it yet.”

“Please,” he said. “Think about Ava. If I go to jail, who is going to take care of her? What happens to her future?”

I looked down at the mahogany desk.

My hands were perfectly still.

“You should have thought about Ava before you encouraged her to lie to the Lakewood police,” I said.

“That wasn’t me,” he said quickly. “She was angry. She wanted to hurt you because you wouldn’t buy her that car. I just… I didn’t stop her. I was angry too.”

“You stood in that station and watched her sign a statement accusing me of physical abuse,” I said. “You knew it was a lie.”