Court Papers in the Locked Drawer of a Community Doctor
I entered the study, closing the door behind me to block out the rest of the empty house. The desk was clean, the green leather blotter empty except for a brass pen holder.
I knelt down and unlocked the bottom desk drawer, the key turning with a dry, metallic scrape. The drawer slid forward on its metal tracks with a low hum.
Inside lay the black leather-bound diary, the pages filled with David’s neat handwriting detailing my fabricated decline. Behind it, tucked under a stack of old medical journals, was a thick manila folder I had not noticed during my first search.
I pulled the folder out, placing it on the desk. Inside was a professional appraisal from Great Lakes Valuations, stamped with a gold seal and dated three weeks ago.
I flipped to the summary page, my eyes scanning the technical descriptions of the shoreline and the timber quality. My eyes stopped on the final valuation figure at the bottom of the page, printed in bold: four hundred thousand dollars.
