“The locksmith said he’ll be here by a quarter to seven,” Paige said, setting her phone on the counter.

I pressed brown packing tape across the top of a box full of his electrical tools.

“His spare truck keys were on the kitchen counter,” Paige said, holding up a brass ring with two silver keys on it.

“Right next to a manila folder he brought in on Friday.”

I took the folder from her and opened the metal clasp.

Inside was a second envelope, sealed with red paper tape and stamped with a notary mark from First National Bank.