I opened it.
On top was the deed.
The original. With the county’s raised seal in the corner. I ran my thumb over it. I could feel the bumps.
My father’s name wasn’t on it.
Mine was.
Katherine Anne Hollis. Sole owner.
Upstairs, I heard a door open and close. Then a voice. Chloe’s voice, high and bright, asking if anyone had seen her phone charger. Then my mother answering. Then laughter.
It floated down through the floor. Warm. Happy. Like a family in a house that belonged to them.
They believed this house was theirs.
They believed I was the one who didn’t belong here anymore.
I looked down at the deed in my hands and smiled.
Just a little.
They had no idea what they’d done.
But I’ve learned something in the Army.
You don’t move until you know the whole picture.
So before I did anything else, I sat down on that cot and opened my laptop.
I told myself I was just checking my email. Getting settled. Normal stuff.
The first thing I noticed was that I had eleven unread messages from my bank. They were all from the last seven months. All automatic alerts. All of them with the same subject line.
Large Transaction Notice.
I’d set up the alerts before I left. But overseas, my personal email went to a folder I barely checked. I was working eighteen-hour days. I trusted my accounts were fine. Who would touch them?
I opened the first alert.
Then the second.
Then I logged into my checking account.
My hazardous-duty pay was gone.
So were my deployment bonuses. The money I’d been saving for two years. The money I’d planned to use for a new roof, because my grandfather’s roof was forty years old and I’d promised myself I’d take care of it.
