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"He had some papers with him. A court claim. From that other asshole, Sinclair."
"Sinclair?" Hailey's ears seem to prick up at my mention of his name.
"Yeah, Sinclair—the man who owns the land the other side of you from us. Wanted to buy your land off you. Reed tells me he made you an offer. A low one."
"Yes, that's right he did. I told him 'no'."
"Good. Pleased to hear it. Well anyway, seems like he ain't giving up so easy on owning your land. Seems like if he can't buy it off you, he's gonna steal it off you. This claim he had—well it hadyourname on it, Hailey. We don’t know if he’s actually gonna file it or not. He tried bribing us to provide evidence to support it, so we’re guessing he ain’t got enough proof of anything to file shit without our help. Not yet at least." I pause, looking across at her to see how she's taking this news. She seems surprisingly unphased by this revelation.
"Honestly, I am not surprised," she says. "In fact, I've been expecting it. My parents have warned me about him."
"Your parents have what?" Reed interrupts, his face a picture of bewilderment. I'm completely puzzled too. What on Earth can she mean? Her parents have been dead twenty years or more, she told us so.
"In that letter we found—you found for me, I should say."
"Oh, right!" Reed's face clears. What she says at least makes sense now, but what on Earth would her mother and father have had to say about Victor Sinclair of all people?
I'm about to ask her when she interrupts and says, "Look, sorry, I shouldn't have interrupted you. Carry on with your story, and then, when you're done, I'll tell you mine, okay?" I nod. Seems sensible. I take another sip of coffee and continue.
"Anyway," I continue, "the Sheriff showed up at our place with a court document. Said Sinclair's claiming the land you're living on was stolen from him years back. Reckons the transfer of ownership was fraudulent."
Her eyes don't even flicker. She leans forward a touch, calm as can be, and says, "Go on."
"He told us Sinclair wants us to sign a statement backing up his claim—says we'd get ten grand each if we did. Sweet little bribe, and a big ugly threat if we didn't."
Reed chimes in. "He said if we didn't cooperate, he'd put every agency he could think of onto us—tax, agriculture, environmental, zoning, you name it. Said we'd spend the rest of our lives drowning in paperwork and lawsuits."
Now she reacts. Her brows knit. "That's… incredibly corrupt."
"Sure is," I say. "And if he's that desperate, we figured you should know. So, we wanted to give you a heads-up."
She smiles—not sweetly this time, but fiercely. Calm, and fierce. "Thanks. I appreciate it. But like I said—I was expecting this. You see, I've been reading that letter from my mother—the one that was in the secret compartment in the headboard. She wrote it before she and my dad flew to Peru, just before they died. She said Victor Sinclair had tried to steal the land once before, from the Ute. That my father fought him in court and won. And that the Ute gave this land to my parents—in trust, for me. Because my father helped them in their court case, and theythought my parents would die very soon, but they believed one day I'd return to protect it."
Silence. You could hear a pine needle drop.
I glance at Reed. He looks like someone walked over his grave. Lennon's frowning, lips tight. I don't know what to say. None of us do.
Finally, I clear my throat. "So you… you believe that?"
Her eyes meet mine. "I do. It sounds crazy, but I do. It's not just land, Dean. It's sacred. It's a legacy. And I'm going to fight for it."
Reed lets out a long breath. "Jesus."
That's when Lennon's phone buzzes. He pulls it out, checks the screen, speaks for a moment.
He freezes, like he's in some kind of shock or something.
"What is it?" I ask.
He swallows. "It's Marsha. Grace's not there."
"What do you mean 'she's not there'?"
"I mean… she's gone missing."
We all look at each other. Then I say what we're all thinking…
"Sinclair!"