One he had no authority to keep.
I reached for my phone and called my sister.
Margaret answered on the second ring.
“Deb?”
I tried to speak, but my throat tightened.
She immediately changed her tone.
“What happened?”
“I need you to come over.”
“Are you okay?”
“No. But I will be.”
There was a pause.
Then she asked quietly, “Is it Tyler?”
I closed my eyes.
“Yes.”
Another pause.
“All right. I’m leaving now.”
“Margaret, bring the folder.”
“What folder?”
“The one you’ve been putting together since spring. Everything you found. The property papers, the account records, and the information about Rachel.”
My sister did not ask another question.
“I’ll be there in twenty minutes.”
When the call ended, I looked toward the office.
On the wall hung a framed copy of the deed to the house.
My father had insisted that I keep it there.
“So you never forget what’s yours, Debby,” he had said.
