Chapter 1“Resents…Line…Dupree.” The cavernous dank and disorderly basement beneath the oft-renovated three-story southern farmhouse gave Ezra’s deep, masculine voice a slight echo.
“Huh?” Four lightbulbs hung bare amid a plethora of cobwebs stretched across exposed beams, the illumination not quite bright enough for Titus to see what he’d pulled from a century’s old mishmash.
“On this paper.” Ezra, apparently, had enough light on his side of the cellar to read. “Resents…Line…Dupree.”
Books, cloth goods, and antique bric-a-brac overflowed on both sides from trunks with rusty hinges or damp, misshapen boxes. Other items lay piled on the floor, once stacked or set about, perhaps, on buckling shelves barely still attached to concrete walls.
“And what does any of that mean?” Titus asked.
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