“If you back up now, you’re letting him win.”

“He can ruin me,” Alden whispered, his voice sinking.

“He has records of my escrow accounts from five years ago.”

“What records?” I asked.

“It doesn’t matter,” Alden said. “Just… please.”

I looked at Graham’s truck blocking the bridge, its headlights casting long shadows across the creek.

The water was churning below us, white foam splashing against the old stone arches.

“He won’t call the sheriff,” I said to Alden.

“Why not?”

“Because a report means public record,” I said.

“Graham can’t afford any public attention before the zoning hearing.”

I turned back to the window.

“Isn’t that right, Graham?” I asked.

“You need this quiet.”

“You think you’re safe because of a zoning hearing?” Graham laughed.

“The board is already taken care of,” he said.

“Celeste made sure of that.”

“What about Marisol Keene?” I asked.

The name hung in the damp air between us.

For the first time, Graham’s expression shifted, the confidence in his eyes flickering.

“What about her?” he asked.

“Alden told me,” I said. “I know she’s not just a buyer.”