A Two Thousand Dollar Nebraska Land Purchase Leads to a Federal Fraud Case
The sun was already dropping behind the western ridges when I got back to the kitchen. The house was cold and quiet, the only sound being the low hum of the refrigerator in the corner.
I did not turn on the overhead light. I sat at the wooden table with the blue folder Sarah had given me, using the pale gray light from the window to read through the settlement agreement once more.
I reached into the drawer of the hutch and pulled out my grandfather’s old magnifying glass. It was a heavy piece of glass with a brass rim and a handle turned from cherry wood. The lens was scratched, but it made the small print of the legal document clear.
I moved the glass slowly over the pages, reading every line of the tiny six-point text in paragraph nine.
Near the bottom of the third page, under the section marked Reservation of Rights, my eyes caught a single sentence that had not been mentioned in the main body of the document.
