“When was this?”
“Three days ago.”
“Who is he?”
“We're working on it.”
Marcus watched the video again.
The man turned slightly.
There was something familiar about his posture.
Not his face.
His manner.
The way he looked at the house.
Not like a stranger.
Like someone inspecting an asset.
Marcus paused the video.
“Zoom in.”
Daniel did.
The man's hand came into view.
There was a ring on one finger.
Marcus stared.
“I've seen that.”
“Where?”
“At the county planning meeting.”
Daniel looked at him.
“You're sure?”
“Yes.”
“Who was wearing it?”
Marcus thought.
“The Crestline attorney.”
Daniel nodded slowly.
“That is what we thought.”
Marcus leaned forward.
“So they never stopped.”
“No.”
“They changed the company.”
“Yes.”
“Changed the names.”
“Yes.”
“And sold Patricia's house.”
“Yes.”
Marcus rubbed his forehead.
“Why?”
Daniel didn't answer.
Marcus looked at him.
“Why would they care about my house if the project is dead?”
Daniel finally spoke.
“Because the project may not be dead.”
Silence filled the room.
Marcus stared at the screen.
The man outside his property.
The shell company.
Patricia's house.
The money.
The access strip.
All of it began connecting again.
“What are they building?”
“We don't know yet.”
“Where?”
“Near your neighborhood.”
Marcus stood.
“Let's go.”
Daniel looked surprised.
“Where?”
“To the property.”
The two men left the building.
By 8:11 a.m., Marcus was driving toward his neighborhood.
The sky was clear.
Traffic moved normally.
Nothing looked suspicious.
That was the problem.
The most dangerous schemes rarely looked dramatic from the outside.
They looked like construction permits.
Consulting agreements.
Property sales.
Planning meetings.
Corporate registrations.
Normal paperwork.
Marcus turned onto his street.
He slowed.
Something was different.
A survey crew was working near the eastern boundary.
Marcus pulled over.
Daniel looked through the windshield.
“That's not county.”
“How do you know?”
“The equipment.”