My Father Brought a Locksmith to Sell the Ranch I Bought
We sat in silence for twenty minutes. The heater in the floor vent hummed, blowing dry, hot air against my shins.
At eleven o’clock, the glass door opened. Thomas Vance returned. He was carrying a cardboard box with a metal handle on each side. The box was dusty, with grey spots along the seams. He set it on the small table next to his desk and pulled off the lid.
Inside were several bundles of papers bound by thick rubber bands. He sorted through them until he found a manila folder marked with a red marker.
“This is the physical file for the December twenty-one transaction,” Vance said. He did not sit down. “The funds were transferred from account ending in four-eight-two.”
“That is my trust account,” I said.
“The amount was thirty thousand dollars,” Vance said. “It was used as the earnest money deposit for the bid on parcel four.”
“Evan’s bid,” Rachel said.
“The bid was made in Evan’s name,” Vance said. “But the transfer authorization from the trust was signed by the account owner.”
