“That envelope was empty,” Dean said.

“You handed me those tax files yourself outside the lake shed on Friday night.”

“My mother handed you blank county forms, Uncle Dean,” Sophie said, checking her phone clock before laying her hands flat on her knees.

Vance didn’t look up from his files.

He opened the second manila folder and laid four enlarged photos side by side in the middle of the table.

“This is the signed land transfer deed dated August fourteenth,” Vance said, pointing his pen at the signature line in the bottom right corner.