“No.”
“This road isn’t public.”
“I know.”
“Then why are you on it?”
“I was coming back from the pharmacy.”
Garrett waited.
Victoria gestured behind her.
“The paved route is ridiculous. Your road comes out right by Meadow Crest.”
“Yes.”
“It saves almost ten minutes.”
“Maybe for you.”
She laughed as if he had made a joke.
“I won’t be a bother.”
“You already are.”
Her smile faded.
Garrett kept his voice level.
“Please don’t use the road again.”
Victoria looked ahead through the windshield.
“You realize residents used these old farm lanes before the subdivision existed.”
“Not this one.”
“You’re sure?”
“Yes.”
“There may be historic access rights.”
“If there are, bring me the record.”
Victoria stared at him.
Garrett stepped back.
“Until then, use the county road.”
For a moment, it appeared she might argue.
Instead, she smiled.
“Of course.”
Then drove away.
The next morning, the tracks were back.
That was when Garrett started locking the gate.
Victoria did not stop.
The first latch failed six days later.
Garrett found the gate open.
Not shattered.
Not destroyed.
Forced.
The latch had been pushed hard enough to bend the mounting plate.