Rhonda’s voice stayed careful. “Mrs. Dunn, the signature on the back reads ‘Patricia Ann Dunn,’ and beneath it is a line in blue ink. May I read it to you?” I leaned back in the porch chair. “Please,” I said. Gary’s shouting grew louder in the background. Rhonda cleared her throat. “It says: ‘If found, this ticket belongs to Patricia, no matter who holds it. Witnessed.’ There is a second signature beside it.” My heart steadied.

“Whose signature?” I asked, though I already knew. Rhonda paused. “A Mr. Harold Pruitt. He is a notary at the gas station’s front counter. We have called him, and he is on his way.” Through the phone I heard Gary demand to speak to a manager, then a sharp scrape of a chair. Rhonda lowered her voice. “Mrs. Dunn, your husband just asked us whether he can sign over your name. Is there anything you would like me to know?”