Cole Dempsey had not been trying to help an elderly farmer settle an outstanding debt.
He had been trying to remove an obstacle.
Walter looked toward the window.
His father had bought the north field when Walter was twelve. Eleanor had spent years planting trees along its boundary. The old stone wall still marked the place where Walter had once learned to drive a tractor.
He had never considered the field valuable.
Not in the way wealthy businessmen measured value.
To him, it was simply part of home.
"How much would they make from this project?" he asked.
Tommy turned his laptop around.
"The preliminary estimate is around eighty million dollars."
Walter stared at the screen.
"Eighty million?"
"Possibly more."
Walter let out a slow breath.
"All that trouble over a few acres of dirt."
Gabriel looked at him.
"That's what makes this dangerous. They aren't going to walk away easily."
Walter folded the document and placed it beside the foreclosure letter.
"Neither am I."
The vehicle outside the farmhouse stopped.
Everyone turned toward the window.
A black pickup truck sat near the gate.
The driver remained inside.
Gabriel stood.
"Stay here."
Walter shook his head.
"Not this time."
"Mr. Briggs—"
"It's my driveway."
He walked toward the porch.
Gabriel followed.
The driver opened the door and stepped out.
He was a thin man wearing a dark raincoat. His hair was neatly combed, and he carried a leather folder.
Walter recognized him immediately.
He had visited the farmhouse twice during the previous month.
His name was Martin Shaw.
He worked for Blackridge Development.
"Good morning, Mr. Briggs."
Walter remained on the porch.
"Morning."
Martin glanced at Gabriel.
"And you are?"
"Gabriel Callahan."
Martin's expression changed slightly.
"Ah."
Gabriel crossed his arms.
"Something I can help you with?"
Martin ignored the question and addressed Walter.
"I was hoping we could discuss the outstanding matter concerning your property."
Walter looked at the folder.
"You've already discussed it with me."
"I believe there may have been some misunderstanding."
"Then explain it."
Martin opened the folder.
"We've prepared an updated purchase proposal. It's considerably more generous than the original offer."
Walter did not take the papers.
"How generous?"
Martin named a figure.
Walter almost laughed.
The amount was higher than the previous offer, but still far below the property's estimated market value if the proposed development proceeded.
"That's your generous offer?"
"It's more than fair considering the current financial situation."
Walter looked at him.
"Do you know what my father paid for this farm?"
Martin blinked.
"No, sir."
"Neither do I. But I know what he worked for it. I know how many years he spent clearing those fields. I know how many nights he came home with his hands bleeding because he couldn't afford to hire anyone else."
Walter stepped closer.
"And I know what my wife spent planting those trees."
Martin forced a smile.
"Sentiment is understandable, Mr. Briggs. But property ownership is a financial matter."
Walter's face hardened.
"Then why are you so interested in buying something you claim is worthless?"
Martin said nothing.
Gabriel looked at him.
"That's a good question."
Martin closed the folder.
"I don't think this conversation is productive."
"Neither do I," Walter replied.
Martin returned to his truck.
Before getting inside, he turned.
"You should consider the offer carefully. Things can become complicated when legal obligations are ignored."
Walter stared at him.
"Are you threatening me?"
"Absolutely not."
"Good. Because I would hate to misunderstand you."
Martin drove away.
Gabriel watched the truck disappear.
"He's nervous."
Walter nodded.
"Good."
"That was reckless."
"Maybe."
Gabriel turned.
"You should have let me handle it."
Walter looked at him.
"Son, if I spend the rest of my life letting other people handle everything for me, I might as well lie down and wait for the undertaker."
Gabriel smiled despite himself.
"You're a stubborn old man."
Walter looked toward the farmhouse.
"So was my wife."
At eleven, Sheriff Evelyn Carter arrived.
She was accompanied by Deputy Aaron Blake, a younger officer who had worked in the county for five years.
Evelyn examined the forged transfer document.
Then she examined the original foreclosure notices, the payment receipts, and the suspicious corporate records.
Her expression became increasingly serious.
"Where did you obtain these?"
Mara explained that she had copied the documents while working at Blackridge.
"Are these originals?"
"Some are. Others are copies."
"How did you access them?"
Mara described her former job and the circumstances surrounding her departure.
Evelyn listened without interrupting.
When Mara finished, the sheriff placed the documents in a folder.
"I need to be careful about what I say next."
Gabriel nodded.
"Understood."
"These allegations are serious. But suspicion is not proof. I can't arrest someone because a spreadsheet contains suspicious transactions."
Walter looked at her.
"What do you need?"