That changed things.
I opened the door two inches but kept the chain latched.
“What is it?”
Her face looked exhausted.
“Your father was right.”
“About what?”
“The courthouse record.”
Rachel stepped beside me.
“You notarized the easement.”
Margaret closed her eyes.
“Yes.”
My hand tightened against the door.
“You notarized my signature while I was in Afghanistan?”
“No.”
“Your seal says otherwise.”
“My seal was used.”
“By whom?”
She looked toward the dark road.
“I’ll explain everything, but we don’t have much time.”
“For what?”
“Someone accessed the recorder archive tonight.”
Rachel lowered her phone.
“What did they take?”
“The original recording packet.”
I felt cold despite the warm barn.
“Who?”
“I don’t know.”
“That’s not good enough.”
Margaret shoved the envelope through the gap beneath the chain.
“It’s all in there.”
I picked it up.
Heavy.
Maybe fifty pages.
Rachel opened the top.
Survey maps.
Emails.
Copies of
