My Father Brought a Locksmith to Sell the Ranch I Bought
“Evening, folks,” Walt said, his drawl low and steady. “A bit late for a real estate showing, isn’t it?”
Arthur stepped forward, his boots kicking up frozen dirt. “Sheriff, we are executing a court-approved inspection. I have the paperwork right here.”
“I saw the paperwork you filed on Tuesday, Arthur,” Walt said. “The problem is, the owner of record did not sign it.”
“I am the co-signer on the original bid,” Evan mumbled, stepping up beside his father. He did not look Walt in the eye, choosing instead to stare at the sheriff’s front bumper.
“That bid was disqualified three weeks ago, Evan,” Walt said. He did not take his hands off his utility belt. “We are waiting on one more vehicle before we start sorting through these papers.”
A pair of headlights appeared from the direction of the highway, moving fast. Rachel Monroe’s compact car climbed the rise and pulled in behind the sheriff’s patrol unit. She cut the engine and stepped out into the cold, carrying her leather briefcase under her arm.
