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“That bitch got the EPA involved on purpose. This has nothing to do with an actual violation.”
The gears in my head started turning as I brought the spiked lemonade to my lips and took a long sip.
Shelby Francis was a developer, not a local. She saw the opportunity to gain access to a roughly hundred-acre stretch of land between Charmaine’s property and Grant’s farm… without having to convince either of them to sell.
“Holy shit,” I whispered.
“Mhmm…” Charmaine agreed.
“Why haven’t you ever talked to Grant about this?”
“Because I don’t know your fancy Mr. Hallston from California,” she said flatly, giving me a look. “Most of us in this area have been here for decades, Ms. Raylan. Not everyone takes kindly to newcomers, especially ones who don’t take the opportunity to be neighborly and introduce themselves.”
I ignored her remark and continued piecing together the puzzle in my head.
Shit, I needed to talk to Grant. This was bad.
“I should go,” I said, giving her a soft smile before draining the rest of my lemonade. “We gotta walk back before it gets dark.”
“Bring him by again soon, will you?” Charmaine beamed, smiling down at Day, who wasn’t paying attention to us at all. “Maurice would have been so thrilled that someone was interested in all of his old stuff.”
“I will,” I promised, but the knot in my stomach was tightening by the moment. The last few encounters I’d had with Charmaine had been nothing but an attempt to gather the history of the area and to decide my best course of action when it came to what could be done about the ravine.
Now that a developer was involved… and possibly trying to defraud not just one, but two landowners in an effort to secure land for residential development?
This went beyond rerouting the creek back to its original route. This went beyond having to prove that the dam the professor at Montana State had mentioned was the reason for this mess in the first place.
Oh, God.
This was a losing battle, and I needed to tell Grant.
* * *
I paced back and forth in the living room at Grant’s house. He was upstairs on a call, and Day was busy playing in the backyard with Jenny. I could hear Day’s voice carrying through the open back door. He sounded so happy.
His joy was the only shred of happiness I felt in the moment, especially since I was about to tell Grant there may not be a way he could win this.
He was going to lose his land, which meant I’d failed at the very job he hired me for.
But I was upset about it for another reason I wasn’t ready to admit.
I wasn’t ready to be done here. Not with this case, and not with Grant.
“Shit, shit, shit, shit…” I hissed under my breath. I looked up at the second-floor landing, where Grant’s office door was just visible. It was slightly ajar, and I heard him laugh heartily with whoever he was on the phone with.
“Moira will get it done. She’s been at it all week. You were right in sending her résuméalong…”
My heart sank into my stomach at his praise. I closed my eyes, sinking down onto the stairs with the report resting on my knees.
I stared into space, unable to focus on the task at hand. There had to be a way out of this. There had to be a way…
I tilted my head to the side, staring blankly at the reclaimed front door, which must have been original to the house. I peered at it closer, noticing what looked like…
I set the report on the ground and crawled on my hands and knees to the door like an animal. I touched what looked like etchings carved into the door, my fingers roving over a series of marks that went almost to the doorknob. I squinted, trying to make out what looked to a name carved into the wood.
It was… measurements.
My eyes widened and my throat contracted, a sudden guilt pressing down on my shoulders.
