My heart did a slow, heavy roll in my chest.

I took a deep breath, smoothing down my jeans, and walked toward him.

“Marcus,” I said, forcing a high, strained note of panic into my voice. “Thank God you’re here.”

He looked from me to the massive yellow crane, then back to the exposed foundation piers.

“What is this?” Marcus asked, pointing a finger at the steel frame. “Why is half of Richard’s house on a truck?”

“It’s the foundation,” I said quickly, grabbing his arm to pull him away from the flatbed. “The limestone shelf beneath the master suite is shifting.”

Nathan Cole must have heard me, because he walked over, wiping grease from his hands with a red rag.

“We had a major shear event early this morning,” Nathan said, his voice entirely flat and professional.

“A shear event?” Marcus repeated, looking at Nathan’s hard hat and clip-on ID badge.

“The piers under the eastern load-bearing wall failed,” Nathan lied without blinking. “If we didn’t lift the structure immediately, the entire wing was going to slide thirty feet into the ravine.”