Chapter 25: The Eviction
244 words
I wasn't bluffing about the pest control. At 8:00 AM on Monday, the Sheriff’s department pulled up. Richard had barricaded the door with the dining room chairs, but a foreclosure order backed by a court-mandated eviction doesn't care about furniture.
I sat in my car across the street, Vance beside me. We watched as two deputies kicked the door open. There was yelling—Richard’s trademark bluster about rights and lawyers—followed by the distinct sound of a struggle.
Moments later, they dragged him out. He was fully dressed now, but one shoe was missing. He was flailing, screaming that he owned half the money, that his wife was stealing his life.
Vance rolled down the window as the deputies hauled Richard toward the sidewalk. He held up the waiver Richard had signed—the one he thought was a debt trap for me.
"Mr. Miller!" Vance called out. "You retain full ownership of your personal effects!"
One of the deputies tossed two black heavy-duty trash bags onto the curb next to Richard. They landed with a wet thud.
Richard scrambled to his feet, panting, looking wildly from the bags to my car. He recognized them. They were the same bags he had thrown at me weeks ago when he told me to get out.
He lunged toward the car, but the deputies stepped in his path. I rolled up the window, silencing his screams.
"Drive," I told Vance. I didn't look back.
End of Chapter 25
