Chapter 3 - The Summoning Notice
Before my father could stomp back inside to continue his rant, a sharp, mechanical clunk echoed from the front entryway.
The smart-lock deadbolt on the front door—a military-grade biometric and encrypted keypad unit I had installed two years ago—suddenly spun on its own. Whir-click.
The heavy oak door unlatched itself, swinging slowly inward on its hinges to reveal the crisp mountain air outside.
Olivia dropped the box she was holding. “Did... did one of you unlock the door?”
“No,” David said, stepping out of the garage with his phone flashlight raised like a weapon. “Nobody touched it.”
Slowly, cautiously, Dad walked toward the open entryway, peering out into the twilight. Resting squarely on the welcome mat, illuminated by the porch motion sensor that had just flickered to life, was a thick manila envelope sealed with a red wax stamp bearing the insignia of Michael Vance’s legal practice.
Dad bent down, picked up the envelope, and tore it open. He pulled out a single, heavily formatted legal document and held it up to the light of his phone.
As he read the first two lines, the color drained completely from his face.
May you like
“What is it, Dad?” Susan asked, stepping up behind him. “Is it a tax bill?”
“It’s... it’s an eviction notice,” Dad whispered, his voice trembling with sudden, unadulterated disbelief. “Issued by the county sheriff’s department... naming us as unauthorized trespassers.”
