Her eyes filled.
“We were supposed to sit beneath that oak tree and complain about our knees.”
I smiled sadly.
“She sounds important to you.”
“She was.”
Then Mrs. Wilson looked up.
“But Agnes changed.”
I leaned forward.
“How?”
“About five years ago, a property company offered to buy our land. Agnes wanted to sell.”
“Did the others?”
“Some considered it. But most of us didn't want to leave.”
Mrs. Wilson swallowed.
“Agnes became angry. She said we were throwing away an opportunity to become rich.”
My heartbeat quickened.
“What happened?”
“The offer fell through because the restrictions couldn't be released without the required approvals.”
She stared at her hands.
“Agnes stopped speaking to some of us for months.”
I felt cold.
An elderly woman with a financial motive.
A daughter running the organization connected to fraudulent transfers.
And a mysterious death nobody had independently verified.
I looked at Mrs. Wilson.
