Arthur Nelson Protected His Wyoming Mountain Cabin with a Trust
“The district attorney in Denver is already investigating the firm,” I said. “What happens there is out of my hands, but his business in Park County is finished.”
She stood up slowly, using the timber post to steady herself. Her suitcase was still sitting by the front door, the black nylon dusty from the road.
“I need to help him load the car,” she said.
The sun had dropped behind the western ridge by five, throwing long, cold shadows across the gravel driveway.
Cornelius was lifting a heavy leather suitcase into the back of his grey SUV. He did not look at me as I walked down the steps, though his smart watch hummed against his wrist every few seconds with incoming alerts.
I held the original brass key ring in my right hand, feeling the cold weight of the three keys against my palm. These were the keys to the deadbolts I had installed myself, each one requiring a precise one-inch throw into the solid pine door frame.
