And I hold the secondary deed of trust.”

“Tom, this is ridiculous,” Ashley cut in, her voice climbing. “You’re acting like a child throwing a tantrum. We’re family!”

“Family doesn’t lock family out in the rain, Ashley,” I snapped, the anger finally bleeding through. I pulled my phone from my damp pocket and dialed a number I’d known by heart for twenty years.

I hit speaker and set it on top of the documents.

It rang twice.

“Tom?” a deep, gravelly voice answered. “Mark Ellison. To what do I owe the pleasure on a Friday night?”