“Why?

Is there a typo in the county tax parcel code?”

I gathered the three sheets, lined up their top edges carefully, and slid them back into the leather folder.

“I need to step outside for a minute,” I said.

I took the leather folder with me and went out the side kitchen door onto the stone terrace.

The cold morning mist still hung low over the grass, drifting off the edge of Lake Anne.

As I reached the driveway, a silver courier van pulled up to the front gate, dropped a thick manila envelope into the metal mailbox, and drove off.