Samuel Reed Kept an Old Wooden Bat Behind the Pantry Door for Twenty Years
Deputy Mark Jennings was waiting by the double glass doors, his leather duty belt squeaking as he shifted his weight.
“The magistrate is finishing a probate matter,” Mark said.
He hooked his thumbs into his belt and looked down the long hallway.
“Daniel’s attorney is already inside.”
A man in a dark gray suit walked out of the side office holding a blue paper folder.
He stopped three feet in front of us and opened the file.
“Mr.
Reed,” the lawyer said.
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