She turned and walked quietly to the front door, her boots clicking on the hardwood.

A moment later, her car engine started in the driveway, and her headlights swept across the kitchen wall as she backed out.

Caroline and I were left alone in the warm, yellow light of the kitchen.

“Are you scared, Grandma?” she asked.

She was looking down at her one hand, her fingers tracing the edge of the wooden table.

“I am angry, Caroline,” I said.

“I am angry that he thinks he can walk back into this house and threaten us.”

“But I am not scared of him.”

“We have the truth, and we have the proof.”

“He has nothing but a fancy house and a loud mouth.”

Caroline looked up, a small, determined smile touching the corners of her mouth.

“He doesn’t know what we have,” she said.

“He thinks I’m just a kid who will do what she’s told.”

“We need to make copies of everything tonight.”

We spent the next three hours at the small desk in the corner of the living room.