The next evening, the house filled with relatives for Madison’s party. Brenda smiled for everyone in a brand new sweater, while Gary carried folding chairs and joked about the weather. Madison stood beside the lemon cake with the baby monitor in her hands. Her aunt Joyce, a sheriff’s deputy, sat quietly at the end of the table. At seven, Brenda and Gary slipped into the garage together, laughing, and shut the door.

Madison looked at me, and I nodded. She set the monitor beside the cake and slid the volume dial all the way up. Static crackled across the dining room, and then Gary’s voice came through, clear as a bell. “Once Dale leaves for his next run, we move the rest of the money, and the brat stays in that camper until she signs.” Twenty relatives stopped chewing, and my sister dropped her fork.