Dad’s handwriting.

I tore it open.

Inside was a deed.

I frowned.

“What is this?”

Frank read over my shoulder.

His face changed.

“It’s property.”

According to the document, Dad had purchased twelve acres of land three years earlier.

There was also a mortgage satisfaction letter.

Paid in full.

“What land?”

Mom began to smile through her tears.

“Your father had another secret.”

Of course he did.

She pointed toward a photograph pinned beside her bed.

It showed a small lake surrounded by pine trees.

The same lake from the impossible photograph.

The place where she had watched me fish from sixty yards away.

Dad had bought it.

All of it.

And according to the deed, he had transferred the property into my name six months before he died.

On the final page was a handwritten note.

Build something better here.

—

PART 6 — MY FATHER’S LAST LIE

The land looked almost exactly as it had fourteen years earlier.