“From whom?”
“I don’t know.”
“Then what did you find?”
Her fingers tightened around her car keys.
“Emails.”
I said nothing.
“When Cedar Ridge was first built, the developer wanted a secondary road through your property.”
“I know.”
My father had rejected the proposal.
They offered seventy thousand dollars for an access easement.
Dad said no.
Then one hundred thousand.
Still no.
Eventually the subdivision built its main entrance two miles east.
Linda nodded.
“The developer kept negotiating afterward.”
“With my father?”
“With someone.”
“Who?”
“I don’t know.”
“Trish?”
“She didn’t live here then.”
“What do the emails say?”
Linda glanced toward her Lexus.
“I printed them.”
“Where?”
“At home.”
“Bring them to Rachel.”
She grabbed my arm.
“Don’t tell Trish I came here.”
I looked down at her hand.
She released me.
“Why?”
“Because she removed me from the financial committee last night.”
“Why?”
“I questioned some transfers.”
