The tires of the trailer hissed as they took on the massive weight.

Just as the steel frame settled onto the flatbed with a heavy metallic thud, I heard the sound of tires on gravel.

It was not one of our trucks.

The sound was coming from the lower driveway, near the main gate.

A sleek, black Lexus SUV rounded the curve, its polished paint catching the afternoon sun.

My breath caught in my throat.

It was Todd Vance’s car.

The driver-side window was rolling down as the car pulled to a halt just twenty yards from the crane.

The passenger door of the Lexus swung open first.

It wasn’t Todd Vance who stepped out, but his senior project manager, Marcus Vance, Todd’s younger brother.

Marcus adjusted his sunglasses against the glare of the Texas sun and stared at the crane.

His mouth hung slightly open as he looked at the eastern wing of the house sitting on the flatbed trailer.

“Alexandra?” Marcus called out, raising his voice over the idle of the diesel engines. “What in God’s name is going on here?”