"It is unpleasant."
"Then we'll take the sheriff."
Gabriel nodded.
"That's the plan."
Walter looked at him.
"But if this person has information, I want to hear it."
"So do I."
"Then we agree."
Gabriel smiled faintly.
"We seem to do that more often than I expected."
Walter looked toward the window.
"That's because you keep learning."
Gabriel laughed.
But the smile disappeared when Sheriff Carter entered the room.
"I have an update."
Walter looked up.
"Who wrote the letter?"
"We don't know yet. But the paper was purchased from a local stationery store."
"Can you trace it?"
"Possibly. We're checking the store's records."
Evelyn placed another photograph on the table.
It showed the old mill.
A dark vehicle had been parked nearby the previous evening.
"We found these tracks in the mud," she explained. "They appear to match a vehicle used by the county planning department."
Gabriel frowned.
"Richard Mallory?"
"That's one possibility."
Walter studied the photograph.
"Then the person who wrote the letter might work for him."
"Or someone trying to make us think that," Evelyn answered.
She looked at both men.
"Thursday's meeting will be controlled. We'll have officers positioned nearby, and nobody approaches the building without my authorization."
Walter nodded.
"Understood."
Evelyn looked directly at him.
"And you will follow instructions."
Walter smiled.
"I'll do my best."
"Mr. Briggs."
"Yes, ma'am?"
"Do better than your best."
The days leading up to Thursday were filled with unexpected developments.
The federal investigators had obtained additional financial records from Cedar Hollow Community Bank.
Those records showed that several mortgage payments had been redirected through accounts controlled by Northgate Advisory.
Elaine Porter had received substantial payments from Blackridge Development.
Victor Hale had received smaller payments, usually through consulting companies that appeared to have no employees.
Cole Dempsey had authorized the creation of the special asset recovery program.
And Richard Mallory had signed planning documents that treated the disputed railway corridor as though it belonged to a private development company.
But there was still no direct proof that Mallory had ordered the original deeds removed.
That was the missing piece.
Without it, he could claim that the errors were administrative mistakes.
The investigators also discovered that James Miller had contacted the county planning department shortly before his death.
He had requested copies of the original railway ownership documents.
His request had been denied.
The official explanation was that the records were unavailable.
Two weeks later, James had been involved in a road accident.
His truck had left the road during heavy rain.
At the time, the accident had been classified as a single-vehicle collision.
No criminal investigation had been opened.
But now the circumstances were being reviewed.
Ruth Miller was informed of the new developments.
She received the news with a mixture of disbelief and grief.
Walter visited her that afternoon.
He found her sitting at the kitchen table with James's old photograph.
"Ruth?"
She looked up.
"Come in."
Walter sat beside her.
"How are you holding up?"
She smiled sadly.
"I'm trying."
He nodded.
"I understand."
Ruth looked at the photograph.
"Do you think somebody killed him?"
Walter took a moment before answering.
"I don't know."
"Do you think he knew what was happening?"
"I think he knew enough to be worried."
Ruth closed her eyes.
"He never told me."
Walter reached across the table.
"Perhaps he thought he was protecting you."
She shook her head.
"I would rather have known."
Walter understood.
He had spent years wishing Eleanor had told him more about the railway documents.
But people often kept secrets because they believed silence was a form of protection.
Sometimes it was.
Sometimes it only left the people they loved with unanswered questions.
Ruth looked at him.
"Do you think we'll ever know the truth?"
Walter nodded.
"We'll keep looking."
She smiled faintly.
"You're a good man, Walter."
He looked down.
"I'm just trying to do the right thing."
"That's what James used to say."
Thursday arrived beneath a low, heavy sky.
The old mill stood near the eastern creek, surrounded by tall grass and neglected trees.
Its wooden walls were weathered, and several windows had been boarded up.
A narrow gravel road led to the entrance.
Sheriff Carter arrived shortly before five.
Deputy Blake accompanied her.
Two additional officers positioned themselves near the tree line.
Gabriel arrived with Walter.
Mara remained at the clubhouse with Doc and Sarah.
Walter had insisted that Sarah not attend.
He didn't want his daughter exposed to another dangerous situation.
She had argued.
He had listened.
Then he had told her that he needed her to stay somewhere safe.
Eventually, she agreed.
Gabriel helped Walter out of the truck.
"How's the hip?"
"Still attached."
"That's encouraging."
"You're becoming a comedian."
Gabriel smiled.
They waited.
At six precisely, a figure emerged from the trees.