That afternoon, Walter began looking. And the more he looked, the stranger the story became. Old payments had disappeared. Fees had been added. Property valuations had been changed. A refinancing agreement Walter remembered signing for one amount had been recorded for another. The debt had grown slowly. Quietly. Perfectly. Like a disease. By Friday, Walter had a folder full of inconsistencies. But he still had no idea how deep the corruption went. Then a motorcycle stopped outside the library. Walter looked through the window. Marcus walked inside. He removed his helmet. "Afternoon." Walter stared. "What are you doing here?" Marcus smiled. "Checking on you." Walter held up the folder. "I think somebody's trying to steal my farm." Marcus's smile disappeared. "Who?" Walter answered. "Cole Dempsey." Marcus looked at the papers. Then at Walter. "Tell me everything."
Marcus listened. He didn't interrupt. Walter explained the loans. The signatures. The missing payments. The foreclosure. Marcus asked only one question. "Do you have copies?" Walter nodded. "Good." Marcus pulled out his phone. "I know someone." "An attorney?" "Not exactly."
Twenty-four hours later, a woman named Rachel Monroe arrived at Walter's farmhouse. She was forty-two, a former state financial investigator who now worked independently. She examined the documents for nearly three hours. Finally, she looked up. "Mr. Briggs, I think you've been targeted." Walter's stomach tightened. "Can you prove it?" "Not yet." Rachel pointed to a document. "But this signature was copied." Another page. "This payment was improperly posted." Another. "And this property valuation is inconsistent with county records." Walter stared at her. "What happens now?" "We build a case." "Against the bank?" "Against whoever did this." Walter looked worried. "That sounds expensive." Rachel smiled. "I was told you had friends." Walter looked confused. Then motorcycles began arriving outside. One after another. The Iron Wolves. There were seventeen riders. Cedar Hollow residents watched from across the road. Someone called the sheriff. Within fifteen minutes, Main Street was filled with whispers. "Those are the bikers." "They're here for Briggs." "Something's going to happen." But nothing happened.
The bikers entered Walter's property quietly. Marcus approached Rachel. "You the lawyer?" "Yes." "Good." He turned toward the others. "Nobody touches anything unless she says so." The men nodded. Walter watched. One rider carried lumber. Another brought groceries. Another brought medical supplies. Someone had purchased dog food for Duke. Walter looked at Marcus. "What is all this?" Marcus shrugged. "You need help." "I didn't ask." "We know." That sentence stayed with Walter. The men repaired the porch. They fixed the barn door. They replaced damaged sections of fencing. They didn't behave like criminals. They behaved like neighbors. Except Cedar Hollow wasn't ready to see that.
The following Monday, Cole Dempsey called Walter into the bank. Walter arrived with Rachel. Dempsey's face tightened. "I didn't realize you had representation." Rachel smiled. "Now you do." Dempsey looked at Walter. "You've been making accusations." "We found irregularities." "Old records can be confusing." Rachel placed a folder on the desk. "Not when the signatures are forged." Dempsey's expression changed. Only slightly. But Rachel noticed. "So," she continued, "we're requesting the complete original loan files." Dempsey folded his hands. "I'm afraid that's not possible." "Why?" "Confidentiality." Rachel laughed. "You're confusing confidentiality with evidence preservation." Dempsey stared at her. Then looked at Walter. "You've made a serious mistake." Walter said nothing. Dempsey leaned forward. "You think these bikers are going to save you?" Walter looked him in the eye. "No." Dempsey smiled. "Good." "They already did." The smile vanished. Walter stood. "For the first time in six years, somebody noticed I was still here." He walked out. Behind him, Rachel followed. Dempsey remained motionless.
That evening, his assistant brought him another problem. A former bank employee had contacted Rachel. Her name was Melissa Grant. She had worked at Cedar Hollow Community Bank for seventeen years. And she had something. A backup drive. Records showing internal changes to Walter's accounts. But Melissa was afraid. Very afraid. She agreed to meet only at night. The meeting took place in an abandoned diner outside town. Marcus came with Walter. Rachel came too. Melissa arrived carrying a small black case. She sat down. "I shouldn't be doing this." Rachel nodded. "You may be the only person who can stop them." Melissa opened the case. Inside was a hard drive. "Every loan officer had access to the system." She swallowed. "But somebody higher up was changing account histories." "Who?" Walter asked. Melissa looked at him. "Cole." Walter's heart sank. "But not just Cole." She lowered her voice. "His father taught him."