Page 29 of Hideaway Reunion

“They forged a paper trail,” Celeste snarled. “There must be a way to prove it.”

Roni looked to Brayden for any kind of support, but he was on his phone, texting furiously. He leaned over and took a few photos of the map, and sent those as well. “Getting research to dig into it,” he said. “They’re a step ahead again. Using a corrupt county official to steal your land before we can prove their fraud.”

Hearing the banked temper in his voice made her feel better. He wasn’t unmoved. Neither was he defeated.

“How do we counter this?” Celeste’s cool composure finally cracked. Roni saw tears in her sister’s eyes. “Our copy of the original deed is locked in the family deposit box, but it’s a standard property description. It doesn’t have the historic ‘in perpetuity’ beach access rules and easements our parents always raved about.”

Veronica stared at the map, her mind racing. A memory—vague but persistent—flashed in her mind. Her father, sitting at the old roll-top desk in the library at home, carefully rolling up a thick, yellowed piece of parchment bound with a faded red ribbon.

He knows where the original, historic plat map is. The potential conflict was a band squeezing her chest. Talking to their dad would piss off her sisters. But they needed information he surely had.

Of course, that assumed he’d answer her in a timely manner.

The others talked while she debated. She could push. She would push. He had to remember what the house meant to him and the entire family from those first days. Grief was a funny thing, but he couldn’t possibly have forgotten those early years where they’d relaxed and played and fished and tried to surf. Everything about the original house was light and love and hope and joy.

If anyone had the documentation to clear up this fraud, it was their dad. And down deep, despite his persistent evasion, he loved them all. He wouldn’t want them to lose this connection to their mother.

She watched Celeste and Natalie. Their faces were set in hard, stubborn lines as they brainstormed with Holly to find the best way forward. She couldn’t mention her plan here without triggering another emotional battle. But she also knew their father was the best, immediate resource to save their home and their business.

Roni stood again. “We have to find the original land grant documents,” she said, keeping her voice even. “The ones from before the county registry was even digitized.”

“If those historical documents exist, they would trump a modern zoning amendment,” Holly agreed, rolling the map back up. “I’ll check the archives here, just in case. Finding them in the county archives could take months.”

After this morning’s stunt, she wasn’t sure they had weeks.

“We’ll find them,” Brayden promised, his hand coming to rest gently at Roni’s lower back, a silent, reassuring anchor of support.

As they filed out of the office into the bright afternoon sun, the salt air held the sting of an impending storm. The dark clouds on the horizon, hemming in the island, were a perfect reflection of the vise tightening around her heart and home.

Once they reached the truck, Roni clutched her phone in her pocket, her pulse thundering in her ears as she debated the best words to cut through her father’s apathy. She needed a response, a solution, and there was no time to waste.

CHAPTER 9

Brayden had received text updates from Trent confirming there hadn’t been any issues while they’d been gone. Still, when they arrived, he checked the Hideaway security system through his cell phone app before he let Roni out of the truck. She’d been silent for the entire drive. The only exception was when he’d suggested she invite her sisters over to talk. That had been met with a resounding no.

One word as a response wasn’t the norm for her. One word over the course of fifteen minutes had him worried.

Now, the quiet construction site wasn’t nearly as much of a relief as it had been hours ago. Their plans for an easy and fun afternoon, summarily revoked. Despite the fresh air gusting periodically, he felt uptight and uneasy. And a little too helpless. It was as if Roni was simply waiting for the sword to fall, severing this dream and her ties to the home she loved.

He’d expected her to grill him about changing out the planted ECMs for materials that Natalie might use. Now that he’d pulled it off—with support from the Guardian Agency—and he could talk about it, he wanted to tell her everything. If only so she could laugh over the whole story with him. It hadn’t been the easiest thing to make the swap, but it would go down as one of the more entertaining days of his career.

Another big wind gust carrying the scent of rain shoved at him as he paced the deck. He heard voices too. Someone was at the construction site, probably replacing the original ECM’s they’d pulled. He wouldn’t be surprised if they claimed some overnight shipping miracle and started up first thing tomorrow.

He cringed, anticipating Roni’s reaction. There had to be a way to help her. She was retreating. Gathering her defenses. And he suspected she was preparing to reach out to her dad—going hard against her sisters’ wishes.

He couldn’t blame her, but neither would he sit back while she stressed out. He called Connor, hoping for some news. “You get anything?” he asked as soon as he heard the click of the research assistant picking up.

“I’m looking at the photo of the plat map you just sent over,” Connor replied. He sounded wired and completely dialed in, based on the rapid-fire tapping of a keyboard clicking in the background.

“You’re not mainlining caffeine, are you?”

“Not today.” Connor’s bark of laughter came and went in a blink. “This slick stunt is impressive. Would be taken at face value, I’m sure,” he said. “And it’s a dirty piece of work. According to the country records system, the digital metadata shows the file was uploaded to the county database from a remote terminal outside the municipal building at two in the morning three weeks ago.”

“What about the assistant registrar who signed off on it?” Brayden asked, keeping his voice low. He continued to scan the tree line of the maritime forest, making sure it was only the wind causing the shadows and movement. “The one Holly said moved away?”

“Lyle Gleason,” Connor grumbled. “Sonya ran his financials for me.”

It took a beat for Brayden to remember Sonya was Connor’s wife and specialized in forensic accounting for the agency.