Mara sat beside Gabriel near the fireplace. She had changed into a dry sweater Walter found in a cupboard. Eleanor had left several clothes behind, and Walter had never found the courage to donate them.
Mara had asked permission before borrowing anything.
Walter had appreciated that.
Duke slept with his head resting on her boots.
Gabriel watched his wife for several minutes before speaking.
"You scared me tonight."
Mara lowered her eyes.
"I know."
"You disappeared without telling me where you were going."
"I thought I could handle it."
"Those men followed you for nearly twenty miles."
"I didn't know that."
Gabriel took her hand.
"I don't care how strong you are, Mara. You don't have to handle everything alone."
She looked at him.
For a moment, Walter recognized something in their faces.
The familiar expression of two people who loved each other but had become trapped in a situation neither knew how to escape.
He looked away.
It was none of his business.
At least, not yet.
"Coffee?" Walter asked.
Several heads turned.
"Please," Gabriel answered.
Walter began preparing another pot.
While he worked, Doc approached him.
"Mr. Briggs, can I ask you something?"
"Depends."
"Have you had trouble with anyone lately?"
Walter continued measuring the coffee.
"Define trouble."
"People coming onto your property. Vehicles following you. Strange calls. Anyone asking about your land."
Walter paused.
Then he placed the coffee scoop down.
"Why?"
Doc exchanged a glance with Gabriel.
"Because Mara wasn't followed by ordinary criminals."
Walter looked toward the window.
"Who were they?"
Gabriel rose from his chair.
"We don't know their names yet. But we've seen their vehicle before."
"Where?"
"Near a warehouse outside town."
Walter turned.
"What's happening at that warehouse?"
Gabriel hesitated.
"That's complicated."
Walter gave him a dry look.
"Most things worth discussing are."
Gabriel pulled out a chair.
"Three months ago, one of our members discovered that a development company was buying properties around Cedar Hollow. They were offering desperate families a fraction of what their land was worth."
Walter felt something tighten in his stomach.
"Which company?"
"Blackridge Development."
The name meant nothing to him.
But when Gabriel mentioned its director, Walter felt his expression change.
"Who runs it?"
"Arthur Voss."
Walter slowly sat down.
He had seen that name.
Not on the development company's advertisements.
On the foreclosure paperwork.
He stood and walked toward the kitchen drawer.
His hands trembled slightly as he searched through several envelopes.
Then he found the letter.
"Here."
Gabriel took it.
The document carried the letterhead of Cedar Hollow Community Bank.
At the bottom was the signature of Cole Dempsey.
Above it was a paragraph mentioning Blackridge Development as an approved prospective purchaser of the Briggs property.
Gabriel read it twice.
Then he looked at Walter.
"When did you receive this?"
"Three weeks ago."
"Have you signed anything?"
"No."
"Have you agreed to sell?"
"No."
Gabriel examined the document more carefully.
"Mr. Briggs, this is important."
Walter folded his arms.
"Apparently."
Gabriel explained that Blackridge Development had been acquiring land throughout the county. Several families had complained about pressure from representatives who appeared unexpectedly, offered cash, and warned that refusing could result in expensive legal proceedings.
One farmer had lost his property after discovering that documents he believed were preliminary purchase agreements had been used in a foreclosure dispute.
Another family had moved away after repeated vandalism.
The Iron Vultures had become involved when one of their members, a retired truck driver named Dennis, received an offer for the small property where he had lived for twenty-two years.
He refused.
Two days later, someone burned his workshop.
The police investigation had produced little.
Gabriel believed the incidents were connected.
"And Mara?" Walter asked.
Gabriel looked toward his wife.
"She discovered something."
Mara straightened.
"I found a folder in the office."
"What office?"
"Blackridge's regional office. I was working there as an administrative assistant before I left."
Walter looked at her.
"You worked for those people?"
"Yes."
"Why did you leave?"
Mara glanced at Gabriel.
"Because I found records showing that some properties were being transferred using forged signatures."
The kitchen became quiet.
She continued.
"I initially thought it was a mistake. Then I found duplicate contracts, altered dates, and payment records that didn't match the official purchase prices."
"Did you tell anyone?"
"I tried."
"What happened?"
"They fired me."
Gabriel's jaw tightened.
"Then someone began following her."
Mara nodded.
"I kept copies of the records."
"Where are they?"
She looked toward her husband.
"Some are in a storage locker. Others are encrypted on an old laptop."
Walter leaned back.
"Then those men weren't looking for you because you're married to a biker."
"No," Mara answered. "They were looking for the records."
Walter stared at the bank letter.
A strange feeling settled over him.
He had spent months believing that his financial problems were simply the unfortunate consequences of growing old.