“Your father signed as managing petitioner,” Miller said.

“Judge Simmons signed the emergency order in chambers before eight.”

My father opened his driver’s door, climbed into his car, and drove off down Cedar Lane without turning his head once.

Deputy Miller walked around the back of the house, his heavy boots crunching on the frosty grass.

I listened to the clink of iron hardware as he wrapped the city padlock around the tractor shed doors.

Daniel Vance arrived at twelve ten, setting his leather briefcase on the hood of his sedan before walking down the gravel path.