"Four thousand eight hundred fish."
"Yes."
"And someone wrote an instruction to release all of them before an inspection."
"Yes."
I rubbed my forehead.
"That sounds deliberate."
"It certainly warrants investigation."
Rebecca asked me to send her the original photographs in their full resolution.
Then she said, "Daniel, I want you to prepare for the possibility that the association will try to remove the fish before the county completes its assessment."
"Can they?"
"Not lawfully without resolving the ownership and regulatory issues. But people who have already ignored boundaries sometimes ignore them again."
I looked toward the gate.
For the first time, I considered installing a security camera.
Then I decided to install four.
The cameras were operational by the following Monday.
One covered the driveway.
Another faced the northern shoreline.
A third watched the gate.
The fourth recorded the deepest section of the pond.
I also installed motion-activated lights near the entrance and placed a clear notice stating that the property was private and under environmental assessment.
Rebecca approved the wording.
For several days, nothing happened.
The fish continued to move through the pond.
Dr. Foster visited twice to check the water quality.
Kenji Watanabe arrived with a second specialist and began preparing a detailed identification plan.
The preliminary inventory suggested that the fish population contained several groups of differing quality.
The specialists estimated that approximately four thousand fish remained in the pond.
Some had died during the first few days, most likely because of transport stress and the sudden change in water conditions.
The survivors appeared to be adapting.
Kenji explained that the next stage would involve identifying individual specimens, reviewing any available breeding records, and determining whether the tags could be connected to a recognized source.
He was careful not to promise a valuation.
But he admitted that the fish might be worth considerably more than the association had paid to transport them.
Meanwhile, the HOA board stopped responding to Rebecca's letters.
Then, at 2:43 a.m. on a Wednesday, one of the cameras detected movement near the northern shoreline.
I was asleep when the security system sent an alert to my phone.
At first, I assumed it was a deer.
Then I saw the live feed.
Three people were standing beside the water.
A fourth person was unloading equipment from a van.
I sat up so quickly that I nearly dropped my phone.
The camera showed a portable aerator, several large holding tanks, and a stack of plastic transport containers.
Someone had brought equipment to remove the fish.
I called the sheriff.
Then I called Rebecca.
She answered after the second ring.
"Daniel?"
"Someone is at the pond."
"What?"
"Four people. They have tanks and transport equipment."
"Call law enforcement immediately."
"I already have."
"Stay inside."
I watched the camera feed.
One of the men was walking toward the deeper section of the pond.
Another was carrying a long-handled net.
A third was standing near the gate, looking toward the house.
Then a familiar figure stepped into view.
Meredith Caldwell.
She was wearing a dark coat and carrying a flashlight.
I stared at the screen.
She pointed toward the water.
The men began unloading equipment.
Rebecca's voice came through the phone.
"Daniel, are you seeing this?"
"Yes."
"Do not go out there."
"I wasn't planning to."
The camera recorded Meredith speaking to the men.
I couldn't hear the conversation, but I could see her gestures.
She pointed toward the pond.
Then toward the containers.
Then she looked at the house.
One of the men shook his head.
Meredith stepped closer and said something.
The man nodded reluctantly.
A moment later, they began moving toward the water.
Then the sheriff's patrol car appeared at the entrance.
The men froze.
Meredith turned.
For a second, nobody moved.
Then the lights came on.
The entire shoreline flooded with blue and red.
The men dropped their equipment.
Meredith stood perfectly still.
I watched the deputy step out of his vehicle.
He approached the group.
Even without sound, I could tell from their body language that the conversation was not going well.
The men were asked to move away from the water.
Meredith began gesturing toward the pond.
The deputy held up a hand.
She stopped.
A second patrol car arrived.
Then a third.
Within twenty minutes, the entire group had been separated.
The equipment was photographed.
The van was inspected.
And Meredith Caldwell was escorted toward a patrol vehicle.
She was not arrested that night.
But she was questioned.
The men were identified as contractors hired through Greenline Environmental Services.
They claimed they had been instructed to relocate the fish to another facility.
When asked who had given the instruction, one of them named Meredith.
The second named a board member.
The third refused to answer.
By sunrise, the sheriff's office had secured the site.
The county issued an emergency order prohibiting the removal of any fish.
And I finally understood why Meredith had been so desperate to establish control over the pond.
She wasn't trying to create a community attraction.
She was trying to recover something.
CHAPTER 8
Something that might be worth far more than anyone had initially realized.
The next morning, Rebecca arrived at my house with a legal pad and two cups of coffee.
She looked exhausted.
"Well," she said, "that escalated."
I handed her a cup.
"What's happening?"
"The sheriff's office is investigating the attempted removal. The county has issued a temporary preservation order. The association's insurer has been notified."
"Can they take the fish?"
"Not while the order is in place."
"What about ownership?"
"That's still unresolved."
She sat at the kitchen table.
"Daniel, I want you to understand something. The fish being on your property doesn't automatically make them yours. We need to establish how they were acquired, who paid for them, whether the association had any legitimate interest, and whether the original supplier retained ownership rights."
"Then who owns them?"
"That is exactly what we're trying to determine."
I looked out the window.
The pond seemed unusually quiet.
"Why would Meredith try to remove them in the middle of the night?"
Rebecca opened her folder.
"Because the association's financial records suggest the fish may not have been purchased through an ordinary commercial transaction."
She showed me a document Marcus had provided.
It was a payment authorization dated six weeks before the delivery.
The association had paid Greenline Environmental Services $84,500 for a project described as a water-feature restoration.
But another document showed a separate transfer of funds from Greenline to a private account associated with a company called Meridian Aquatic Holdings.
The amount was $61,000.
The transfer had occurred three days after the fish were delivered.
"What is Meridian Aquatic Holdings?"
"We don't know yet."
"Who owns it?"
"That's what we're investigating."
She placed another document on the table.
This one was an email chain between Greenline and an unnamed supplier.
The supplier had written that the fish were being transferred under a temporary holding arrangement.
The email included a warning.
All breeding stock must remain identifiable. No specimens may be sold, transferred, or disposed of without written authorization from the registered owner.
I looked at Rebecca.
"Registered owner?"
"Yes."
"Who?"
"The supplier has not yet confirmed the identity of the owner."
"Then why would the association take them?"
Rebecca tapped the document.
"Because someone may have believed the fish could be sold before the original owner discovered they were missing."
I stared at her.
"You're saying this could be a theft?"
"I'm saying there are several possible explanations, and one of them is that the association became involved in an unauthorized transfer of valuable property."
I rubbed my face.
"How much could the fish actually be worth?"
Rebecca looked at me carefully.
"Kenji has completed a preliminary valuation of the identifiable specimens."