My Father Brought a Locksmith to Sell the Ranch I Bought
They were checking the lock. They wanted to know if I had replaced the one they cut last week.
I adjusted my mother’s silver watch strap over my glove. My wrist was numb from the cold, but the metal felt solid and heavy under my coat sleeve.
I walked back up the drive toward the cabin. My boots made a clean, sharp crunching sound in the frozen crust.
The house was dark. I had turned off the porch light to make the place look empty from the road.
I climbed the steps and went inside, locking the deadbolt behind me.
The cabin was silent except for the steady, low hum of the refrigerator in the kitchen. I sat on the wooden bench on the porch, wrapped in my heavy winter coat, with my phone lying flat on my knee.
The screen was dark, but a tiny blue LED light in the corner blinked once every five seconds, showing the system was active.
The temperature had dropped to twelve degrees. My breath rose in thick, white plumes that drifted under the porch roof before disappearing into the dark.
