Her taillights disappeared into the mist of the hollow, leaving me alone in the dark.

I stood in the rain until the sound of her engine died away completely.

My clothes were soaked through, clinging to my skin.

I walked back inside the cabin and locked the heavy oak door behind me.

The warmth of the wood stove hit me, smelling of dry birch and ash.

I walked into the kitchen and poured a glass of water, my hands finally starting to shake.

Tomorrow morning at nine o’clock, we would be back in the courtroom.

Judge Whitaker did not tolerate delays.

I went to the dining room table where my files were spread out under the light of the brass lamp.

The yellow manila folders were neat, organized by date.

Inside the top folder was the certified copy of Trevor’s court-mandated financial disclosure.

Next to it was the printout from the county zoning office I had pulled this morning.

The signatures didn’t match.

The assets listed on his court forms didn’t exist in the state registry.

He had sworn under oath that he held sixty thousand dollars in escrow for the road maintenance.