Chapter 4 - The Pastor’s Ledger
“You told the church she stabbed a clerk at a gas station,” Pastor Glenn whispered, his voice trembling with sheer shock. He walked onto the lawn, pointing a finger at my father. “You showed us forged letters from a warden in Bullock County! You had me read them from the pulpit to collect offerings so she wouldn't starve in solitary confinement!”
“That money was used to maintain her interests!” my father yelled, but his eyes were darting toward his Buick parked in the garage.
“Check the bank receipts,” Mr. Holloway shouted, stepping up beside me. “They bought a brand-new pontoon boat two summers ago, Sarah. They told everyone it was a gift from an uncle in Ohio. They remodeled their kitchen with granite countertops while telling the women’s auxiliary group that you needed dental surgery in prison.”
The Channel 6 cameraman was practically jogging in circles now, capturing my parents' panicked faces, the flashing lights, and my immaculate uniform.
“Dale, turn that lens off!” Eleanor screamed, lunging off the porch steps toward the cameraman.
“Ma'am, do not touch the reporter,” Deputy Miller ordered, intercepting her by the elbow. “Keep your hands to yourself.”
“Sheriff, I want them removed from my property,” I said firmly.
May you like
Walker blinked, glancing between me and the title documents inside my red folder. “Your property, Sarah?”
I reached into the folder and produced the probate judgment from the county court, signed by Judge Harrison before I shipped out. “The deed transferred automatically on my twenty-fifth birthday unless a valid conviction certificate was presented. They filed a provisional claim, but county probate requires a personal appearance after four years. My lawyer in Atlanta finalized the deed registry this morning at 8:00 AM. I own this house, Sheriff.”
