“Morning, Claire,” Jerry said, pulling a bundle of letters from the slot. “You have a light delivery today, but there is one piece that needs a signature.”
He slid a long, official-looking envelope through the metal tray under the glass window.
I looked at the bold black lettering printed across the front. The name on the envelope was Grant Caldwell, 142 Riverpoint Court, which was three blocks away from my house on Riverpoint Lane.
The return address in the upper left corner was the Virginia Department of Professional and Occupational Regulation in Richmond. A bright pink sticker across the bottom edge read: Notice of Investigation and Request for Records.
“Jerry, this is not mine,” I said, sliding the envelope back toward him. “It is addressed to Grant Caldwell. The carrier must have put it in my box by mistake.”
Jerry squinted at the label, then let out a low sigh, scratching his neck.
“My mistake, Claire,” he said, reaching for his logbook. “The new carrier has been mixing up the Lane and the Court all week. I will put it in the redeliver bin, but it will probably sit there until Monday morning.”
I looked at the heavy paper, realizing how long an investigation notice like this took to generate. In my fourteen years managing logistics for the Army, I had processed thousands of compliance files, and they only arrived like this when an audit had already begun.
“I can take it over to his house,” I said, picking the envelope up again. “Natalie is coming by later anyway, and I can hand it to her.”
“That would save us the redelivery fee,” Jerry said, crossing out the entry on his clipboard with a black marker. “Just make sure they get it. Richmond does not like to be kept waiting when they flag an account.”
“I will make sure,” I said.
I slipped the heavy envelope into my canvas tote bag, where it sat flat against my personal letters, the stiff paper pressing against my side as I walked back to my car.
At three, the rain had stopped, leaving the driveway dark and glistening. I was carrying a plastic grocery bag from the back of my SUV when a white SUV pulled in behind me, its front bumper stopping inches from my rear tire.
