Mom took a shaky breath.
“Because a developer recently discovered how valuable it could become.”
I looked back at the photograph.
Then something struck me.
The seven women.
The seven photographs in Alex's backpack.
The numbers.
“Mom…”
She nodded.
“Yes.”
My heart began pounding.
“Mrs. Wilson was number six.”
Mom looked down.
“And I'm number seven.”
That evening, Detective Ortiz visited my mother's house.
We spread the old photographs and trust documents across the dining-room table.
Mom explained that the Seven Oaks Circle had been formed by seven local women who wanted to preserve a neglected green corridor and protect their adjoining homes from speculative development.
They had pooled money, acquired small parcels, and established recorded property restrictions with legal assistance.
The arrangement wasn't particularly glamorous.
It was simply a way to protect their neighborhood.
But over the years, land prices had risen.
Now the county was considering a major transportation project nearby.
