He looked down at his hands, his brow furrowed in thought.

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“Shortly after she died, I went to the house to pay my respects,” Arthur said.

“I saw Graham leaving her study with a handful of papers,” he added.

“Did you see what they were?” I asked.

“I saw the green leather folder,” Arthur said.

“The same one from the photograph,” I said.

“Yes,” Arthur said.

I felt a chill run down my spine.

If Graham had the original easement, he had likely destroyed it to clear the way for his development.

“But he couldn’t just destroy it,” I said. “There must be a copy.”

“The copy we had at the county clerk’s office was just a draft,” Arthur said. “Without the original signatures and my notary seal, it won’t hold up in court.”

“So we need the original signed document,” I said.

“Yes,” Arthur said. “But there is something else you should know.”

He stood up and walked over to a small roll-top desk in the corner.

He opened a drawer and pulled out a small, yellowed notepad.