reference number already attached.”
“Whose name was on the file reference?” I asked.
Rachel looked toward the inner office door where the county recorder was talking on the telephone. “I cannot pull an active file for you without a written request, Brenda. You know the rules here.”
“Was it Travis?” I asked.
Rachel adjusted her glasses again, keeping her thumb pressed flat against the frame. “Check your mail at home. Official court notices do not travel by parcel post.”
I walked back out to the parking lot where the wind was picking up from the north. The sky above the water tower was the color of a wet slate shingle.
When I got home at noon, Travis was sitting on the kitchen porch steps with a bucket of soapy water and a stiff bristle brush. He was scrubbing dried gray clay off the heels of his work boots.
I set
