“I did,” I said. “They are filing for a permanent injunction tonight.”

Marcus gripped the wooden handrail so hard his knuckles turned white.

“Do you have any idea what you’ve done?” Marcus said, his voice trembling with rage. “The bank is calling in my loans tomorrow morning.”

“Then you’ll have to sell something else,” I said. “You aren’t selling the cemetery.”

“You think you’ve won because of some old papers?” Marcus sneered, his eyes darting toward the window.

“The physical ledger is going into a safety deposit box tomorrow,” I said.

“There are other records,” Marcus said, a desperate look crossing his face. “The original land surveys from the construction of the north ridge road.”

“Those are in the county archives,” I said.

“No, they aren’t,” Marcus said, a cold smile touching his lips. “The historical society returned them to us last year. They’re sitting in the filing cabinets in the old gatehouse.”

My heart sank slightly as I realized he was right.

The old gatehouse on the edge of the property had been used for storage for decades.