"Was anything stolen?"
"Not that we know."
"Then why is Marcus here?"
Daniel didn't answer.
The conference room door opened.
Harold stepped out.
He saw Eleanor.
His expression tightened.
"Eleanor."
"Harold."
"What are you doing here?"
"I was talking to Daniel."
"About?"
"The security system."
Harold looked at Daniel.
Daniel said nothing.
Harold smiled.
"You've always been curious."
"And you've always been vague."
His smile disappeared.
Marcus emerged from the conference room.
"Ms. Price."
Eleanor turned.
"You know my name."
"I heard Daniel say it."
She nodded.
Harold looked between them.
"Perhaps we should all sit down."
They entered the conference room.
Marcus placed a folder on the table.
"This is the original land survey."
Harold looked at it.
"Yes."
"Do you recognize this parcel?"
He pointed.
Harold leaned closer.
"The old orchard."
"Correct."
"What about it?"
"Who owns it?"
Harold answered immediately.
"The HOA."
Marcus opened another document.
"According to this?"
He placed a deed on the table.
Harold looked at it.
His expression changed.
Eleanor noticed.
"What?"
Harold picked up the document.
"Where did you get this?"
"County archives."
"This isn't the current deed."
"No."
"It's outdated."
"That's what I thought."
Marcus placed another paper beside it.
"This is the current deed."
Eleanor leaned forward.
The name on it was unmistakable.
Margaret Bell.
Harold's face had gone pale.
Eleanor recognized the name.
Margaret Bell was the oldest surviving resident of Bellwood.
She had moved there before the neighborhood had been fully developed.
"She owns the orchard?" Eleanor asked.
Marcus nodded.
"Always has."
Harold sat down.
"You don't understand."
"Then explain."
Harold looked toward the window.
"Margaret sold the orchard."
"No."
"She signed an agreement."
"Show me."
Harold didn't answer.
Marcus opened the folder.
"There is no signed agreement."
"Because it was lost."
"No."
Marcus removed another document.
"Because it never existed."
Harold stared at him.
The room fell silent.
Eleanor felt the weight of what she was seeing.
Marcus leaned forward.
"Someone altered the Bellwood property records."
Harold shook his head.
"You're accusing the board."
"I'm presenting evidence."
"You don't know what you're talking about."
"Then why are you afraid?"
Harold's eyes moved toward the glass wall.
Toward Eleanor.
Toward Daniel.
Then back to Marcus.
"I think you should leave."
Marcus closed the folder.
"That's fine."
Harold looked relieved.
Marcus stood.
"But the county investigator arrives tomorrow morning."
Harold froze.
"What investigator?"
"The one who requested these records."
Eleanor looked at Marcus.
"You contacted the county?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
"Because someone has been trying to sell property they don't own."
Harold stood.
"That is not happening."
Marcus looked at him.
"Then you shouldn't have anything to worry about."
He picked up his briefcase.
As he walked out, Eleanor followed.
She waited until they were outside.
"Who are you really?"
Marcus stopped.
"I told you."
"You're a lawyer."
"Yes."
"That's not enough."
He looked at her.
"Why?"
"Because ordinary lawyers don't walk into Bellwood with old land deeds and warnings about cameras."
Marcus smiled faintly.
"You're right."
He looked toward the gate.
"I'm not an ordinary lawyer."
Chapter Three
The Woman Who Owned the Land
Margaret Bell lived in the oldest house in Bellwood.
Unlike the other properties, hers had never been remodeled.
The porch sagged slightly.
The windows were original.
The garden had grown wild around the edges.
It looked almost out of place among the enormous modern homes.
Eleanor had never visited.
Now she understood why.
Margaret did not like visitors.
She opened the door only after Marcus knocked three times.
"You're late."
Marcus checked his watch.
"By two minutes."
"I'm eighty-three. Two minutes is a long time."
Marcus smiled.
"Fair enough."
Margaret looked past him.
"Eleanor Price."
Eleanor blinked.
"You know me?"
"I know everyone."
Eleanor almost smiled.
"I thought I was the one who knew everyone."
Margaret stepped aside.
"That's what young people always think."
Inside, the house smelled like old books and lemon tea.
Photographs covered the walls.
Bellwood before Bellwood existed.
A field.
An orchard.
A farmhouse.
Children running between trees.
Marcus stopped in front of one photograph.
"Your husband?"
Margaret nodded.
"Thomas."
"When did he die?"
"Twenty-two years ago."
"Accident?"
Margaret looked at him.
"That's what they said."
Eleanor noticed the silence.
"Who are they?"
Margaret walked toward the kitchen.
"People who had a great deal to gain."
She poured tea.
Marcus didn't drink.
He placed a folder on the table.
"We found evidence that someone has been using your land."
Margaret nodded.
"I know."
Eleanor stared.
"You knew?"
"Of course."
"Then why didn't you report it?"
Margaret laughed softly.
"To whom?"
"The police."
"I did."
"And?"
"They told me I was mistaken."
Marcus looked at her.
"What exactly happened?"
Margaret's hands tightened around the teacup.
"For years, trucks came through the orchard at night."
"What kind?"
"Construction trucks."
"Where did they go?"
"Underground."
Eleanor frowned.
"Underground?"
Margaret nodded.