Chapter 13 - The Letter from Federal Penitentiary
Two days after our meeting in Des Moines, an unexpected envelope arrived at the local county sheriff's department, addressed specifically to me.
Sheriff Miller personally drove his squad car down our long gravel driveway to deliver it by hand, his face grave beneath the brim of his campaign hat.
"It came through the inmate mail screening at Polk County, Clara," Miller said, handing me the transparent plastic evidence pouch.
"Corbin wrote it himself, without his lawyer’s clearance."
"The guards said he was on suicide watch after being assaulted in the exercise yard."
I took the envelope into the warmth of the farmhouse, sitting at the kitchen table while the rain beat a steady rhythm against the cedar shingles.
My father stood by the cast-iron stove, keeping a silent, watchful vigil while Wren played with wooden blocks on the rug nearby.
I tore open the plastic and extracted two crumpled yellow legal pages covered in Corbin's frantic, uneven handwriting.
The polished, haughty tone of the man who had ordered me out into the sub-zero storm was entirely gone, replaced by naked, sniveling terror.
"Clara, please, you have to listen to me before it is too late," the letter began, the ink smudged in several places.
"I know what you think of me, and I know I deserve to burn in hell for what happened on Christmas Eve."
"I was out of my mind, poisoned by Elaine and the pills she was giving me to keep me compliant."
"You don't understand who Julian Vance is, Clara; he doesn't operate within the confines of the law like your father does."
"Julian doesn't care about court orders or your father’s old military medals."
"He holds personal notes on every property Mercer Capital owned, including the liens I secretly forged on the farm before our divorce was finalized."
My eyes locked onto the word 'forged,' and a wave of ice water seemed to cascade down my spine.
"If Julian doesn't get forty million dollars by the end of April, he told me he will burn everything you love to ash."
"Drop the criminal charges, Clara, sign the settlement papers Sterling gave you, and liquidate the western parcels."
"Do it to save Wren, because if you don't, no locked door on that godforsaken prairie will keep them out."
I looked up from the page, my pulse hammering in my throat like a trapped bird.
"He forged liens against this farm, Dad," I choked out, tears of pure rage stinging the corners of my eyes.
"He put our ancestral land up as collateral to Elaine’s brother behind my back."
Colonel Everett did not blink, nor did he display the slightest hint of panic.
He calmly took the letter from my fingers, folded it neatly, and placed it on top of the black iron stove.
"A forged document has no legal standing in any court recognized by the United States government," Everett said evenly.
"And as for Julian Vance’s threats against this homestead..."
May you like
The Colonel turned toward the corner of the room where his old military footlocker rested beside the locked black vault.
"He is welcome to come across our county line and see what kind of reception awaits him."
