How Eighty Acres of Wisconsin Oak Ridge Exposed My Ex-Husband’s Cash Scheme
Kurt stopped ten yards inside the south boundary line and aimed his light up at Brad’s wooden ladder stand.
“Look there,” Kurt said loudly to his two buddies.
“The stand’s right where Brad said it’d be.”
Russ Lindahl rubbed the back of his neck with a thick, callused hand.
“Brad say whether anybody else had keys to that bottom gate?”
“Brad said it was locked up tight for us,” Kurt said.
“He said Amy wouldn’t come anywhere near the woods today.”
“She’s standing right over there,” Dale called out from the dark tree line.
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Every time my brother-in-law drove me home, I would lose consciousness and wake up with unexplained aches and pains. My husband would only laugh and say, “You’re just out of shape, that’s all.” After the fourth ride, I secretly slipped a voice recorder into my purse and said nothing. That night, I listened to a phone conversation between the two of them that revealed my blackouts had never been accidental.
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