Page 75 of Eyes Like a Hurricane

“So far these are all bills,” I mutter.

“I swear one whole drawer was receipts for supplies to build the fences,” Callum grumbles.

I continue to flip through the rest of the files and switch to the top drawer. A red folder catches my eye in the center of the drawer. There is also a yellow and a light blue folder. I assume he used colored folders so they would stand out. I start with the red folder.

“I found all of the sales information for the new septic tanks he had installed a couple years before he died,” I utter, shaking my head and move to the yellow folder.

As I flip it open, my gaze catches on the stamp from the County with a recording number. My eyes move to the center of the page, and in bold print, ‘Deed of Trust’ looks back at me.

I whoop and raise the folder above my head.

“It’s here!” I shout, and my voice echoes around the barn.

Cheers sound from down below, and Callum claps me on the back.

Smiling he says, “Let’s go before the county building closes and we have to wait another day to get this handled. Call Edwin on the way.”

We get to the bottom, and I grin at Ingrid, whose face is red and blotchy. Her fingers are steepled in front of her face, and she is jumping up and down.

She touches my forearm and whispers, “Edwin just called. He said the doctor took Aislinn back and they are checking for swelling around the brain and blood loss. Then they will check her lungs after breathing in the air down there. He said she was still unconscious when they rolled her back but that they would call when she was back in recovery. It sounds like her head will need stitches.”

I nod. Nothing new and nothing unexpected. I was prepared for that outcome. Glad there were no surprises.

I hold up the deed as my mom hands me Grandpa’s will. Callum and I hop in my truck. I press the gas pedal to the floor aiming the truck toward the county building. We fishtail as we leave the driveway.

When we arrive, we run up the stairs and go flying through the front doors. Deb looks up sharply at the force of our entry and glares at us over the top of her glasses.

“Lachlan, to what do we owe your fast arrival? I presume you found the original documents?” she asks eagerly.

Taking a slow breath, I place the two documents on the counter.

“I need you to make copies of my grandfather’s will and the Deed of Trust to my property. Edwin said the recorded copy you kept here wasn’t found. Someone is trying to steal my land.They claim to have recorded a new Deed of Trust here, but there is no way it’s valid,” I explain.

Marilyn peeks her head out. “Oh yes, I was here when those lovely young men came in. They were just the sweetest. They said my decorations were the nicest they had ever seen. I think one was planning to decorate his office based on my style. He was from Seaside and worked as an actuary. He had very nice eyes and was just so kind to me.”

Callum, Deb, and I all look at each other knowingly. Marilyn is sweet, but her facts are rarely accurate, and her truth is more in the realm of fictitious.

Callum covers his laugh with a cough. It never does any good to correct her, but I want to make sure we are speaking about Cody.

“Marilyn,” I start, and Deb subtly shakes her head knowing this may be a loss cause. “Was the man’s name Cody? Was he maybe from Seattle and an attorney?”

She puts a finger up to her mouth and using her thumb rotates the rings on her fingers.

“You know, I think his name may have been Cody. I do like that name. I had a dog once named Cocoa. He was such a sweet poodle. Did you know I was the lead in a tap-dancing performance back in third grade, where all the girls wore Poodle skirts?”

Ignoring her, I turn to Deb. “Deb, can you please pull the Deed of Trust filed under our property? We believe it may be fraudulent.”

She sucks in a sharp breath and hurries to the filing cabinets at the back. Within minutes, she is back at the front counter. She places the Deed of Trust, which Cody must have brought in yesterday, in front of us.

Deb flips to the signature page, and sure enough, there is my dead grandfather’s signature dated for this year, after he has been six feet under for a decade. I point out the date, and Deb shakes her head. I know it’s not their job to check dates and signatures, but it’s still frustrating.

Deb says, “Yeah, this is fraudulent. I will call Edwin and let him know we have physical evidence. There is no way your grandfather could have signed a document earlier this decade, let alone this week.”

A sniffle comes from Deb’s side, and we all look over to see huge tears welling in Marilyn’s eyes. “Let me guess, this is all my fault? Next, you all will think I’m lying about what happened.” Tears begin to fall, and she cocks her head in our direction. “Deb, you are cruel to think this is my doing.”

Deb bristles. “I said no such thing, but did it even seem fishy to you that Lachlan’s grandfather signed a document when you attended his funeral ten years ago?”

I cringe but shift my eyes away from the scene. Marilyn turns and storms away. Shaking her head, Deb turns and looks at us sheepishly.

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