I undid the brass snap and took out the original 2012 trust deed showing that I alone owned 412 Maple Street.

Next to it I set the printouts of the forty-five thousand dollars in missing wire transfers from my hazardous duty savings account.

Beside those I put the certified copy of Richard’s forged mortgage note for one hundred ten thousand dollars.

I lined the three documents up side by side until their edges ran perfectly parallel.

I looked at my grandfather’s real signature on the deed, clean and strong, next to the shaky, forged initials Richard had put on the loan papers nine years later.

I walked back to the heavy wooden door, turned the brass deadbolt until the steel bolt clicked deep into the frame, and locked myself in.