“All mine?”
“The fee parcel shown in your deed includes it.”
“Any easement?”
“Nothing recorded in the materials you gave me.”
“Could they still have rights?”
“Ask your lawyer.”
“I don’t have one.”
“You do now.”
“That expensive?”
David stared.
“You’re being sued for two million dollars.”
“Good point.”
While we stood there, a security golf cart descended the road.
Gary Munroe stepped out.
Private security supervisor.
Large.
Tactical belt.
Sunglasses despite overcast sky.
“What are these?”
“Survey markers,” David said.
Gary kicked lightly at one.
David’s voice changed.
“Do not disturb that.”
Gary looked at me.
“This is HOA property.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
“No.”
“I’m going to need these removed.”
David held up his identification.
“Licensed surveyor. They mark Mr. Russell’s deed boundary.”
Gary laughed.
“Your map’s wrong.”
“Call the county.”
Gary reached for his radio.
Ten minutes later, Brandy’s Range Rover appeared.
She exited before it fully settled.
“What is this?”
“Survey.”
“Remove it.”
David said:
“No.”
Brandy turned toward him.
“Excuse me?”
“These stakes mark the parcel.”
“This is our service road.”
“The pavement is on Mr. Russell’s property.”
Her face went still.
Not angry.
Still.
That was how I knew she already understood the significance.
“You are mistaken.”
David handed her a copy.
“Recorded railroad corridor. Deed references. Field measurements.”
Brandy did not take it.
She looked at me.
“This is an extortion attempt.”
“I haven’t asked you for anything.”
“You intend to interfere with access.”
“I asked your attorney to show me your access rights.”
“We have prescriptive rights.”
“Maybe.”
Her eyes narrowed.
That answer surprised her.
I had spoken with a local property attorney the previous day, Elena Morales.
She had warned me not to make dramatic declarations.
Long use could create arguments.
Temporary permission could complicate those arguments.
The facts required legal analysis.
So I said only what I knew.
“The deed is mine. The old construction license expired. Your permanent rights are disputed.”
Brandy stepped closer.
“Our attorneys will destroy you.”
I felt my pulse in my neck.
“You already sued me.”
“You should have taken the warning.”
“You should have checked the deed.”
For the first time, Brandy Parker had nothing to say.
That night Elena came to my kitchen.
Files covered the table.
She reviewed everything.
“This is messy.”
“That’s encouraging.”
“No.”
“Do they have an easement?”
“No recorded easement.”
“Prescriptive?”
“They’ll argue it.”