Wayne hesitated a second too long. “It’s… borrowed,” he said. The deputy walked to the cab, checked the door panel, and read the logo stenciled on it. Hollis Development Group. Earl took the folded contract from Wayne’s hand before he could pull it away, unfolded it on the hood of the cruiser, and read the first page out loud for everyone to hear.

“This isn’t a transfer to you, Wayne,” Earl said slowly. “This is a sale. Seller: Floyd Bramlett. Buyer: Hollis Development Group. Closing date: Friday.” He flipped to the second page and went quiet. Then he looked up at my son with twenty-eight years of police work in his eyes. “And there’s a payment line here,” he said. “Forty thousand dollars. To you. Already paid.”