A Two Thousand Dollar Nebraska Land Purchase Leads to a Federal Fraud Case
By nine o’clock that evening, the wind had died down to a cold, steady draft that rattled the kitchen window. I sat at the wooden table in the dark, the only light coming from the open door of the refrigerator where a single jar of pickles sat on the shelf.
I reached into my pocket and pulled out the smartphone. The screen was dark, but when I tapped the button, the green digital clock showed nine-fifteen.
I opened the camera application. The feed from the western fence line was active, the infrared sensor turning the dry grass and the wooden post into shades of ghostly white and grey. The road was empty, the gravel shining like silver under the digital lens.
I knew Brinley Fairmont would not wait long. She was a woman who lived for control, and the news that I was ready to capitulate would be too tempting for her to ignore. She would want to secure that easement before the county records could be audited, before anyone else started asking questions about her fake homeowner association.
I set the phone face up on the oilcloth table.
