I found Alden’s number in the contact list of the old house phone.

I dialed.

It rang four times before a dry, hesitant voice answered.

“Hello?”

“Alden,” I said. “It’s me.”

“I told you I can’t help you,” he said quickly. “The family decisions are out of my hands.”

“I have the conservation easement,” I said.

The line went dead silent.

“What did you say?” he whispered.

“Eleanor’s easement,” I said. “The duplicate with the raised notary seal. I’m holding it right now.”

I could hear his heavy breathing on the other end.

“Where did you find it?”

“It doesn’t matter,” I said. “What matters is that Graham is signing the deed tomorrow at ten.”

“If that easement is recorded,” Alden said, “the land is worthless to Cypress Meridian.”

“Exactly,” I said. “And I know about the power of attorney, Alden.”

He gasped.

“I didn’t forge it,” he said quickly, his voice rising in panic. “Graham brought it to me already signed.”

“But you notarized it,” I said. “You knew my father wasn’t in any condition to sign his name.”

“I was pressured,” he said. “Celeste threatened to…”