Page 110 of Twisted Knight

“Always. Love you.”

“Love you too.”

My sigh is heavy as the call ends and silence smothers the car once again. The million things I have to do are forgotten for a bit as I relive memories and reapply the guilt that has clung to me like superglue my entire life.

The guilt that will follow me to the grave.

I jump when the truck pulls up beside me sometime later, scattering the ghosts in the car back into their hiding places.

It took a little longer than I thought for him to show. From the reports I’ve gotten, he’s being paid for every approach of prospective buyers he sees sitting out here.

I glance over as the older gentleman gets out of his truck. His well-worn cowboy hat sits high on his forehead, revealing a mop of shaggy white hair that’s tinged yellow. His nose and cheeks are reddened by rosacea, but his blue eyes are wide and his grin is sincere as he tips his hat at me and waits for me to roll down my window.

I do just that. And the minute it’s down, he steps closer. “Can I help you with something?” he asks, his big belly leading the way and his eyes taking in my Rolex, my luxury SUV, and judging.

“Tell me about the land for sale.”

“WillowBend is what we call it. I’m just the neighbor giving a helping hand to its owner trying to sell. I can call the real estate agent and set up a meeting for you, if you’d like.”

“No need.” I climb out of my car and shut the door. His eyes roam over my dress shirt and slacks. They say he’s not sure what brand they are, but he knows they’re expensive. “They’ll try to sell me and talk in fancy terms I don’t understand. Major turnoff.”

“Yes. I know. I get it. Same thing happens to me. The owners … I could call them direct for you if you’d like.”

“Really? What a kind neighbor you are. I sure hope you’re getting some kind of commission for your good deeds.”

He chokes out a cough. “No commission.” His smile is quick and masks the lie.

“No? But if they can sell this land then your land goes up in value, no doubt.”

He twists his lips as he stares at me, realizing I won’t buy the bullshit he’s selling. “Something like that.” He looks out toward the land and then back to me. “You looking to buy property?”

I follow his gaze and shrug. “It depends on the property.”

“What about this one here?”

I make a noncommittal sound. “Not sure. It’s a nice piece, just curious why it hasn’t sold.”

His eyelids flutter as he nods. “Not sure either, but I know they’re eager to offload it.”

“Hm. I’ll keep that in mind. I heard rumors that there are problems here with the land.”

“Who would say such a thing? Lived here my whole life. Nothing wrong here,” he says.

“Sure would be devastating to be suckered into buying a piece of land like this thinking you’re going to make a pretty penny developing it and reselling it … only to realize you can’t.”

“I don’t see no reason why you wouldn’t be able to develop and resell. Not sure what you’re talking about.”

“Methane is what I’m talking about.” I look for a reaction. His eyes widen momentarily. His nostrils flare. “High levels of it. So much so that once you churn this soil up with excavators to, say … develop it—cut it up into lots to resell to a developer and turn a quick buck—you’re looking at toxic levels. So toxic that the cost to mitigate it with soil barriers and such would price you right out of the resale market.”

He looks at me from beneath the brim of his hat, eyes narrowing. “That’s a downright lie. Ain’t no reports say nothing of the sort.” But his gaze says he knows differently. Good. That means Bob is doing his job properly. Letting everyone know this land is shit. That the owners are selling damaged goods.

At least there’s that.

“Good to know. Hmm. Wonder why I heard that, then?”

“Land is a cutthroat business in these parts,” he mutters the line I know to be bullshit. “Lies are a part of it.”

“Hmm. I’ll keep that in mind.”