“He’s here to witness my signature on the access card,” I said.

Victor set the book on the counter and opened it to a clean page.

His pen hovered over the line.

“If I do this,” he said, “you tell the county I cooperated.”

“Depends what’s in the box,” I said.

He scratched his chin hard enough to leave a red mark.

Then he signed his name and pressed his seal into the card.

His thumb worried the corner of the notary book until the leather went pale.