Molly wanted to come with me. I told her I would rather she stayed at Lena's office where somebody could contact her if necessary. She looked at me for a moment and said she would agree only if I promised not to change plans halfway through the day. I made that promise, then took the fishing rod from the back of my car and placed it in the motel closet. For some reason, having it out of sight made the idea of losing the ranch hurt more.
That evening, Derek called. He said he had remembered a name from Raymond's old bookkeeping discussions: Tamarack Land Advisors. It was the company that occasionally appeared beside a column marked consulting allocation, though he had not seen invoices describing any actual consulting. He recalled Raymond telling Christine that their partner needed the eastern shore cleared before the next permitting cycle. Derek had assumed they meant clearing title defects. After seeing the Crescent Landing advertisement, he was no longer so sure.
I passed the name to Avery without trying to trace it myself. She thanked me and said the financial unit was already examining transactions between Arvos Holdings and several out-of-state businesses. She refused to identify those businesses or speculate about anyone's guilt. The restraint was frustrating, but I was beginning to appreciate the difference between wanting an answer and being entitled to a premature one.
The night before the meeting, I dreamed that the ranch gate had been replaced with a tall wall of filing cabinets. Every drawer opened to a document that declared the land belonged to somebody else, but none of the documents contained a name I could read. Behind the wall, I could hear my father laughing as he cast a line into water I could not see. I woke with the motel alarm blinking four seventeen and lay still until the light outside began to change.
At eight, Molly came downstairs with two paper cups of coffee and a breakfast sandwich she insisted I finish. She had drawn a tiny fishing pole on the wrapper with a blue pen. "The ranch isn't going anywhere today," she said. I wanted to point out that this was exactly what we were trying to establish. Instead, I ate the sandwich and thanked her for being there.
I arrived at Morrison Ranch shortly after eleven. The gate was still chained, but the three trucks were gone for the first time since the day I arrived. I could see tire marks in the dirt where they had been parked and a crushed soda cup near the ditch. Beyond the gate, the farmhouse waited beneath its overgrown trees, the porch railing casting narrow shadows over the steps. I stood looking at it for a minute, then returned to my car and put my documents on the passenger seat.