Out on the driveway, Sandra opened her car door, took out a second clipboard, and snapped three quick photos of my work truck and the frame of the front garage door.

I went back into the air-conditioned house and set the state worker’s white business card on the counter next to the emergency summons.

Mariana sat at the kitchen table with four yellow manila folders spread across the wood.

She checked her wristwatch before pulling the top document off the stack.

“This is the hardware store receipt from March,” Mariana said.

I picked up the faded slip of thermal paper.