“I’m telling you Mountain View Development LLC is one of the companies Robert was investigating, and if they’re planning to build a resort on my land, they’re going to get quite a surprise when they start digging.”
Patricia leaned back slowly, and then a smile spread across her face.
“Mrs. Williams,” she said, “I think we’re going to get along just fine.”
We spent the next hour developing a strategy. Patricia would file an injunction to stop the sale, claiming fraudulent power of attorney. Meanwhile, I would contact the FBI about the buried evidence.
“There’s just one problem,” Patricia said as I gathered my things. “If we reveal the evidence too early, your daughter and son-in-law might claim ignorance. We need to catch them in the act of trying to cover it up.”
“Don’t worry about that,” I said, standing up. “Emma and Jake think they’re much smarter than the old lady. They’ll try to fix this quietly, and when they do, we’ll have them exactly where we want them.”
Walking back to my car, I felt lighter than I had in days. For the first time since Jake had walked into my kitchen with his envelope of blood money, I had a plan.
But first, I needed to make a phone call to an old friend at the FBI.
Agent Sarah Morrison had been Robert’s contact during his investigation. She’d been waiting seven years for Robert’s evidence to surface.
It was time to make some people very nervous.
Agent Sarah Morrison looked exactly the same as she had seven years earlier. Sharp suit. Sharper eyes. The kind of no-nonsense presence that said she’d seen enough corruption to fill a library.
We met in a coffee shop downtown, far from curious ears.
“Dot, I have to admit, when you called, I thought you might finally be ready to hand over Robert’s evidence,” she said, stirring her coffee. “I didn’t expect to hear it was accidentally sold with your ranch.”
“Life has a sense of humor,” I said. “The question is how we handle this without spooking the development company.”
Sarah pulled out a tablet and turned it toward me.
“Mountain View Development LLC is owned by Bradley Construction Enterprises. Ring any bells?”
My blood went cold.
“James Bradley.”
“The main target of Robert’s investigation,” she said.
“So he just bought the property containing evidence that could send him to federal prison.”
“The question,” Sarah said, “is whether he knows what he bought.”
I thought about that.
“Jake and Emma certainly don’t know. They think they’re getting rich quick by selling their crazy mother’s property. But Bradley…” I paused. “Robert always suspected somebody warned Bradley about the investigation. That’s why he hid the evidence instead of turning it over immediately.”
Sarah leaned forward.
“You think Bradley knows about the evidence?”
“I think Bradley has been looking for it for seven years. And now he thinks he owns the land where it’s buried.”
We sat in silence a moment, both of us understanding the shape of that.
If Bradley knew about the evidence, this wasn’t just about my ranch anymore.
It was about a desperate man trying to bury his past by digging up mine.
“Here’s what we’re going to do,” Sarah said finally. “We’ll let the sale proceed, but under surveillance. If Bradley starts digging in suspicious places, we’ll know he’s looking for something specific.”
“And if he finds it?”
“He won’t,” Sarah said. “Because you’re going to retrieve it first.”
I nearly choked on my coffee.
“I’m going to what?”
“Dot, you’re the only person who knows exactly where Robert buried that evidence. We need to get it before Bradley does, but we have to do it in a way that doesn’t alert him.”
“In case you’ve forgotten, I’m sixty-eight years old. I’m not exactly built for midnight excavation projects.”
Sarah smiled.
“That’s why you’re going to have help. My partner, Agent Mike Torres, specializes in covert operations. He also worked construction, so he knows how to dig quietly.”
The plan was insane.
It was also brilliant.
I would go back to the ranch under the pretense of collecting personal items. Sarah’s team would provide surveillance and support. We’d retrieve the evidence before Bradley’s people found it.
“There’s just one problem,” I said. “Emma and Jake will be watching me like hawks. They’ll suspect something if I start poking around out there.”
“Leave that to me,” Sarah said. “I have an idea.”
Two hours later, I was driving back to the ranch with a story prepared. I had called Emma and told her I wanted to collect some of Robert’s personal things—his toolbox and the antique fishing tackle he kept in the garage. Sentimental value, I said.
Emma had grudgingly agreed to meet me there.
What I didn’t tell her was that Robert’s toolbox contained a metal detector and a small shovel, or that the tackle box held surveying tools he had used to mark the exact location where he’d buried the evidence.
As I pulled into the driveway of what had been my home for thirty-seven years, Emma’s SUV was already there. She stood on the porch checking her phone, looking impatient in a cream-colored jacket that cost more than my first used pickup.
“Mom, hurry up,” she called. “I have yoga at four.”
“Of course you do, sweetheart,” I said, climbing out of my car. “This won’t take long.”
If only she knew how right she was.
Emma followed me around the ranch like a suspicious guard dog, which would have been annoying if it hadn’t been so predictable. My daughter had always thought she was the clever one in the family, but she’d inherited her father’s habit of overthinking simple things.
“Mom, why do you need all this old junk?” she asked, watching me load Robert’s toolbox into my trunk. “It’s just going to clutter up whatever apartment you end up in.”
“Sentimental value,” I said, keeping my voice gentle. “Your father spent hours with these tools, fixing things around the property.”
What I didn’t mention was that “fixing things” had included installing motion-sensor cameras and a sophisticated alarm system to monitor the evidence cache. The control unit was hidden in what looked like an ordinary tackle box.
“I still can’t believe you’re making such a big deal out of this,” Emma said. “Jake and I are trying to help you transition to a more manageable lifestyle.”
“How thoughtful,” I said, hefting the tackle box. “Speaking of Jake, where is he today?”
“Meeting with the development company. They want to start surveying the property next week.”
“Interesting.”
I wondered whether Jake had any idea who he was really dealing with.
“Mom, can we please hurry this up?” Emma glanced at her Apple Watch for the third time in five minutes. “I really do have plans.”
“Of course, dear. Just one more thing.”
I started walking toward the southwest corner of the property, where the old oak tree threw long shadows across the ground.
Emma trailed after me, her designer heels sinking into the soft earth.
“Why are we going all the way out here?”
