It was undeniably one of the most serene and beautiful sights imaginable, yet a man living in a modern gray house had formally labeled it a visual eyesore.

I glanced up at Chad’s upper deck, but it was entirely empty with the thick curtains drawn tight behind the glass doors.

PART 3

The inspector pulled up at five minutes to nine driving a small white county sedan with an official emblem stamped on the driver’s door.

He was a young man of about twenty six named Wayne Miller, sporting a neat haircut, wire glasses, and an official identification badge clipped to his leather belt.

He was remarkably polite from the moment he stepped out, shaking my hand and then shaking Dad’s hand while addressing my father as “sir.”