My Father Brought a Locksmith to Sell the Ranch I Bought
Vance took the paper, holding it under his flashlight. He stayed quiet for several seconds, his eyes moving back and forth across the page.
“This is thirty thousand dollars,” Vance whispered.
“Exactly thirty thousand,” Rachel said. “Withdrawn from Olivia’s personal trust account to fund the initial deposit for Evan’s foreclosure bid. The signature on the authorization was forged.”
Linda let out a small, sharp breath from the shadow of the sedan. She pulled her leather handbag tighter against her ribs, her eyes darting toward the highway.
“Arthur,” Linda whispered. “We should go. We should just go home.”
“Shut up, Linda,” Arthur barked, though he did not look at her. He kept his eyes on the paper in the realtor’s hand.
I turned the key in my ignition and let the diesel engine rumble to life. I flipped my headlights on, adding another set of high beams to the glare at the gate. I drove down the slope slowly, stopping ten yards from the crowd.
