Daniel stared at the raised notary seal on the bottom corner of the third page for five seconds before answering.

“Simmons is strict about statutory filing deadlines,” Daniel said.

“If the intent note was never formally recorded at the courthouse desk, he might rule it inadmissible.”

“It has a court stamp,” I said.

“A stamp isn’t a recording entry,” Daniel said.

“We have to hope Simmons recognizes the signature on that notary line.”

He handed the document back to me, and I slid it into my coat pocket next to my gloves.

I drove home along Cedar Lane as the streetlamps flickered on against the dark evening sky.