I pulled into a gas station and sat with both hands on the steering wheel. For several minutes, I could not decide what to do first: call the sheriff, call Lena, find another room, or tell Molly the place was turning into a nightmare. The anger surprised me with its physical force. I had spent thirty years being the calm person in difficult meetings, and now I wanted to put my fist through a dashboard because three people had made it impossible to unpack my suitcase in my own house.
I called Molly before I called anyone else. She answered between classes and said she could be there by the weekend. I told her she did not need to drive across two states to help me with paperwork. She replied that this was no longer only about paperwork, and she wanted to see her father before he convinced himself he was not allowed to be tired. I looked at the boarded farmhouse beyond the trees and told her I would think about it.
That evening, the title company finally sent a written confirmation that its search identified no recorded HOA encumbrance on the ranch at closing. It was cautious, limited to what its policy and records could support, and did not make the problem vanish. I read it three times anyway. Sometimes a carefully qualified sentence is more reassuring than ten bold promises, because it tells you somebody has checked what they are saying.
I was preparing to forward that letter to Lena when a text arrived from an unfamiliar number. The message said the sender had served as treasurer of Lake View Estates and possessed documents proving what Christine and Raymond were doing. It invited me to meet at the fishing pier at Miller's Point that evening, alone. The final sentence made the hair rise on my arms: THEY ARE WATCHING BOTH OF US.
I replied with one question. "Who are you?" The answer came immediately: Derek Murphy, former treasurer. I searched the state association filings and found his name on documents from four years earlier, then saw it disappear when Christine's signature began dominating the records. The match was promising, but it did not prove the sender was Derek or that the meeting was safe.
I called Lena. She asked me to forward the messages and said I should not meet an unknown person alone at an isolated pier simply because the message promised the evidence I wanted. I felt the old stubbornness rise in me and nearly told her that if I avoided every risk, I would never get home. Then I remembered Molly's warning about mistaking solitude for competence. Lena arranged for me to speak with Deputy Brittany Martin, who had been assigned to review my report about the threatening photograph.