I received an automatic message this afternoon.
It said the location device inside the box had been activated.”
Curtis’s face changed.
Only slightly, but enough.
Ms.
Alvarez approached and showed Sarah her identification.
Then she turned to me.
“You must be Eagle.
Michael described you accurately.”
“Did he also describe this mess?”
“In considerable detail.”
Curtis pointed toward the box.
“That contains documents stolen from our father’s company.”
Ms.
Alvarez did not look at him.
“Mr.
Hale, you were notified six months ago that your claim against Michael’s estate had no supporting evidence.
You were also instructed to stop contacting his widow outside formal legal channels.”
“This is a family matter.”
“Your brother anticipated that phrase.
He used it eleven times in his affidavit.”
For the first time since arriving, Curtis looked uncertain.
Ms.
Alvarez asked Sarah for permission to move the box to a private office.
Sarah looked at Tommy, then at me.
“He won’t go into strange buildings right now,” she said.
Tommy shook his head violently.
“Then we do this at the clubhouse,” Big Jim said.
“Quiet room.
Familiar people.
No crowd.”
Sarah hesitated.
Tommy touched the eagle patch.
“Go with Eagle.”
Those four words decided it.
The ride to the clubhouse took less than ten minutes.
Tommy wore the helmet Mike had prepared and sat behind me with his arms firmly around my waist.
We moved slowly, surrounded by the others.
Sarah followed in her sedan with Ms.
Alvarez.
Curtis followed too, though Dutch made certain his truck stayed at the rear.
At the clubhouse, we brought the steel box into the meeting room.
No alcohol, no music, no engines.
Tommy sat beside Sarah with the helmet in his lap.
Every few seconds, he ran one finger over the stickers Mike had placed there.
Ms.
Alvarez unlocked the box with the brass key.
Inside were three folders, a small hard drive, a notarized will, bank records, and a sealed envelope addressed to Sarah.
There was also a tablet computer wrapped in one of Mike’s old bandanas.
Curtis stood near the door with his arms crossed.
“None of this proves anything,” he said.
Ms.
Alvarez opened the first folder.
It contained records from Hale Precision, the machine shop Mike and Curtis had inherited from their father.
According to the documents, Mike had sold his share to Curtis twelve years earlier.
