How Eighty Acres of Wisconsin Oak Ridge Exposed My Ex-Husband’s Cash Scheme
Russ Lindahl spat onto the frozen corn stubble.
“Four thousand from me, four from Kurt, four from Mike.
Twelve thousand cash out of our pockets for a phony piece of paper.”
“And he’s sitting in his warm sales office on Highway 12 laughing at every one of us,” Mike Pruett said.
Kurt took the forged lease back from me, folded it neatly along its original creases, and held it flat between his palms.
“Where’s your lawyer’s office, Amy?” Kurt asked.
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