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” I said firmly. “I’ve been here every day. No deputy, no certified mail, no notice taped to the door. Where does this say I was served?”
Romero flipped a page. “Service address is listed as 128 Maple Terrace.”
The world tilted on its axis. Maple Terrace was a rental house my parents had lived in fifteen years ago—a place with a cracked driveway and continue reading …
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