The purchase price was substantially below what Russell believed the land was worth.
More important, the offer included a condition allowing the buyer to acquire additional access rights across the property.
Hank read the address at the bottom.
Then frowned.
He recognized it.
It belonged to a commercial office building used by several development companies, including a regional affiliate associated with Cornerstone.
Russell watched him.
"Now you're starting to see it."
Hank looked toward the folder.
For several seconds, he couldn't speak.
Then asked, "You think she's trying to force us to sell?"
Russell nodded slowly.
"I think somebody wants land, and making us miserable is cheaper than paying what it's worth."
The following week, Boone Kavanaugh requested copies of the relevant public land records.
Hank also contacted a licensed surveyor named Claire Mendoza.
Claire was thirty-nine, experienced in rural boundary matters, and familiar with the difficulties created when old agricultural parcels met newer residential developments.
She didn't promise him that the records would prove a conspiracy.
Instead, she explained that boundary and easement questions required careful examination of recorded instruments, survey evidence, and actual conditions on the ground.
Hank appreciated her caution.
He'd dealt with enough confident claims from Moren.
He wanted facts.
Claire visited the farm.
They walked the eastern boundary together, stopping near old fence lines, utility markers, and the concrete culvert Todd had photographed.
She examined the visible features.
Then compared them with the survey materials.
At one point, she stopped near a narrow strip of ground between the cornfield and the subdivision's landscaped access lane.
She looked toward Hank.
"Do you know when this lane was widened?"
He frowned.
"During construction, I think."
Claire studied the area.
"Was it originally included in the utility easement?"
"Not for vehicles."
She nodded.
Then walked farther along the boundary.
The access lane appeared to occupy more space than the original utility corridor required.
She made several measurements and notes.
Then asked Hank to show her the earliest recorded documents he possessed.
He brought her to the farmhouse.
They spread the papers across the kitchen table.
The one-dollar utility agreement lay beside his grandfather's older property records.
Claire examined them for almost an hour.
Then looked up.
"There's something here we need to verify."
Hank felt his stomach tighten.
"What?"
She pointed toward the boundary description.