My hands shook so badly that the metal lid clattered when I opened the mailbox.
Inside was a thick envelope addressed to me in elegant, trembling cursive. I recognized the handwriting immediately. Mrs. Higgins.
My breath caught.
I tore it open, expecting a note, a warning, maybe some final request I would not know how to fulfill.
But it was none of those things.
Inside was a legal document.
A deed.
To my home.
Stamped across the page in bold red letters were three words I could barely understand through the blur of tears:
PAID IN FULL.
I stared at the paper as if it had fallen from another world.
The sheriff’s expression changed. The official hardness in his face gave way to something quieter. Something close to respect.
Mrs. Higgins had not simply been an old neighbor who needed help with her lawn.
She had been watching.