“The title company will accept it,” Alden said.

“Even if I object?”

“By the time you file an injunction, the money will be gone,” Alden said.

“Cypress Meridian will wire the funds to the offshore account Graham set up.”

“And the land?”

“The bulldozers will be on the lower pasture by noon,” Alden said.

I looked back at Graham, who was reaching into his coat pocket.

He pulled out his phone, the screen glowing bright blue in the darkness.

He held it up to the glass, showing an active call to the local sheriff’s department.

He didn’t press send, but his thumb hovered over the screen.

“He’s going to report the car as stolen,” Alden whispered, his hands shaking on the steering wheel. “Or say I’m holding you.”

“Let him,” I said.

“You don’t understand the depth of this,” Alden said, finally turning his head to look at me.

His eyes were filled with a desperate kind of pity.

“This isn’t just about Graham’s debt,” Alden said.

“Then what is it?” I asked.

“The public zoning hearing is next Tuesday,” Alden said.