I walked over and pulled the heavy door open, letting in a gust of cold, wet air that smelled of river mud and rotting leaves.

The man was Detective Vance, Lydia’s colleague from the county office.

He held a sealed manila envelope under his arm, his dark coat glistening with raindrops.

He stepped into the foyer, water dripping from his hat onto the polished pine floorboards.

“The attorney signed,” Vance said, handing the envelope to Lydia.

Lydia tore open the flap and pulled out a stack of paper.

She flipped to the signature page, showing the black ink of Warren Bellamy’s signature next to the blue stamp of a notary public.

“It’s over, Marcus,” Lydia said, holding the paper up so he could see it.

Aunt Caroline appeared at the top of the stairs, clutching a faded silk shawl around her shoulders.

Her eyes were wide with terror as she looked down at the deputy and the papers in Lydia’s hand.

“What is happening?” Caroline asked, her voice trembling. “Is the family name going to be in the papers?”