“They were closed when you left Denver,” I said. “But Malcolm has a direct line to the clerk of courts. They filed the electronic emergency stay two hours ago.”

He looked down at the yellowed paper in his hand.

“You’re lying,” he said, but his voice lacked its previous strength.

“Why don’t you burn it and find out?” I said.

He stared at the paper, his fingers trembling slightly.

The wind outside seemed to grow louder, rattling the tin roof above us.

“If you burn that, you’re just destroying evidence,” I said. “And Malcolm has already logged the chain of custody.”

My mother let out a sharp cry.

“I told you, Richard!” she said. “I told you we shouldn’t have come up here!”

“Shut up!” he shouted, turning on her.

She flinched, stepping back toward the cold dark corner of the cabin.

My father turned back to me, his chest heaving under his heavy wool coat.

“You think you’re so smart, Avery,” he hissed.

“I had to be,” I said. “You didn’t leave me any other choice.”

He took a deep breath, trying to regain his composure.