Clara stepped through the heavy gray steel service door in her wool coat, a dark scarf pulled tight around her throat.

She was holding a wide kraft envelope wrapped in yellow county seals.

She placed the heavy package directly into Daniel’s waiting hands.

“Vault locker four,” Clara said, her dry, polite voice dropping an octave against the rattle of the door frame.

“This is the original 2012 trust file recorded by your grandfather, Thomas Carter.

It’s been behind iron since the day he brought it in.”

Daniel checked the red wax seals along the flap.