The bank owned far more properties in the county than I had ever imagined. We began twenty miles outside of town, Truesdale and Malaika, and both their assistants my only passengers. I supposed Malaika had decided her executives were safe back at the bank with all their security cameras and their armed guard.

I wondered what she would think if she knew I had been able to hack their security system in less than an hour when I began screwing with Truesdale. Good thing I wasn’t a thief. I only wanted access to his computer in order to play with his sense of security.

It was fun.

The first few properties were homes that were foreclosed because of non-payment. There was a lot of that going on in the country these days. A couple of businesses. And then the ranches.

More than a few of our neighbors had been foreclosed on. I hadn’t realized. I pulled up to houses where I had once been a guest, some where I’d spent long weekends helping move cattle from one pasture to another, some where I’d attended parties and sleepovers with kids I’d known all my life. It broke my heart to realize I hadn’t missed some of these guys as much as I should have because I was too wrapped up in my own mess.

And then I found myself pulling through the gates of the Q Ball Ranch.

“This property was foreclosed on last April?” Malaika asked.

“Yes,” Truesdale said, a catch in his voice. “The owners were six months behind in their payments. They were given multiple chances to bring their account up to date, but failed to do so.”

I could feel his eyes boring holes in the back of my head. I wanted to turn around and smack him.

“How many acres?”

“A thousand.”

“And they raised cattle?”

“Yes.”

“Anything else?”

“Chickens. Some horses. But mostly the cattle.”

I pulled to a stop in the driveway in front of my childhood home. I found myself looking at the familiar façade, the window in my bedroom that looked down right on this spot. The long porch roof that I had climbed across and down on the few occasions I snuck out after my parents had gone to bed. The double windows in the front through which I could always see my mother watching as I got off the bus at the end of a long school day.

It was all dark and sad now, the paint beginning to bubble and flake off. My father never would have allowed that to happen when he was here.

“Quentin?”

I climbed out of the SUV and walked around to open the door for Malaika. She glanced at me, again that naked curiosity in her eyes. But, as before, she didn’t ask.

They walked to the front of the house and stared up at it for a moment. Then Malaika’s assistant handed her the keys, and they went inside. I stayed by the car, watching, memories unraveling in my head as I stared at the familiar place. I’d been back here a few times since my family left. Not the house, not really. But I’d walked the familiar land, had sat in the summer heat watching the places where there should have been cattle roaming, but weren’t.

Planning my revenge.

They came back outside, Malaika firing questions at Truesdale.

“How many buildings?”

“Seven.”

“The property taxes?”

“Just over three thousand.”

“The sale price?”

“We haven’t set one yet.”

“Why not?”

Truesdale glanced at me. “The bank has been occupied with other issues—”

“These foreclosed properties should be appraised and placed on the market as soon as possible. The bank loses money if it’s forced to pay property taxes on properties that aren’t making money for us.”

“I realize that, but—”

“Are the buildings all in good repair?”

“They’re not,” I said, unable to keep my mouth—or my outrage—shuttered. “The barns both suffered damage during the rains this past winter. They need to be repaired before winter comes again, or there will be more damage this time next year.”

Malaika crossed her arms and studied me. “How do you know that?”

“Mr. Forrester’s family used to own this ranch,” Truesdale said, a slight smirk on his face.

Her eyes darkened as she studied me for a long, silent moment. “Would you show me around?” she finally asked.

Truesdale choked a little. “Are you serious?”

But I inclined my head, gesturing for her to get back into the vehicle. She chose the front seat for the first time, sliding into the bucket seat beside mine. The others scrambled to get into the back before I took off, leading the vehicle over the rough dirt road that cut through the center of the ranch. I slowed as we approached the first of the barns. Sliding out of the vehicle again, I moved around to her side and helped her down, slipping her arm through mine to guide her across the rutted turf to the barn door.

“You see the hole in the roof there? It’ll need to be repaired before the winter rains begin, or you’ll have rot in the stalls.”

I pushed open the large doors of the barn. The smells of cow and manure and earth rushed over us. Malaika didn’t react. I’d thought she would recoil, but she kept her back straight and her head high like she walked into abandoned old barns all the time.

“You grew up here?”

“I did.”

She just nodded, pulling away from me as she walked around the dark space, her hand brushing against the age-worn wood that made up the long supports that held up the roof. This barn held eight large stalls where my father had kept the horses. There was a tack room in the back and a storage area where we kept feed and other supplies. A loft still held a few bales of hay that were probably infested with mice by now.

She made no comment as she looked around, turning and leaving without a single glance in my direction. We drove to all the outbuildings in that fashion, getting out to inspect each one. She asked a question here and there, but was mostly silent.

The last building was a small cabin at the back of the property where my father and mother had lived once upon a time when they were first married. My father didn’t always get along with his father and felt the distance might do them some good. It was largely abandoned now, a small, one-room space that my friends and I used to utilize as a sort of clubhouse, though even that had been more than a decade ago. But it was well-built, solid. A little dusting, and it could be used tonight.

“Why a cabin? And so far from the main house?”

“That was my father’s way.”

“Your family owned this ranch a long time?”

“Four generations.”

“Was it named for you?”

“I’m the fourth in a long line of Quentins. It was named for my great-grandfather.”

She nodded. “Family’s important.”

I leaned against the doorjamb, watching her, liking the way she looked in this place that was such an important part of my life. She looked like she belonged in a strange sort of way.

She paused in the center of the room, looking around like she was trying to see what the place would be like fully furnished and full of life, like I saw it when I looked around. Her eyes moved over me for a brief moment. And then she strode toward me, tugging her phone out of her pocket like she’d suddenly remembered a call she needed to make.

“Thank you, Mr. Forrester,” she said.

“Thank you, Ms. Gray.”

There was a slight hitch in her movements at my words. I found myself wondering why. She seemed like a woman with ice water in her veins. But, every once in a while, I got a glimpse of something else. That something else was something I felt like I’d rather like to get to know better.

But then she was marching out to the SUV, pausing briefly by the back door as she waited for me to come open it.

“Mr. Truesdale, I want to see the appraisal for this ranch the moment we get back to the bank.”

Truesdale stuttered for a second. “There isn’t an appraisal.”

“Why not? Isn’t it bank policy to get an appraisal the moment a foreclosed property reverts back to the bank? Isn’t it our policy to put properties such as this one up for sale the moment it is feasible?”

“It is.”

“Then why are we sitting on a prime piece of real estate like this?”

He stuttered again, clearly without a good answer.

“We will have this property listed by Monday. Understand?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

I glanced into the back seat and caught a flash of something cold and angry on Truesdale’s face. But there was fear, too. A deep fear.

What was that about? The Guardians?

But we’d beaten the Guardians. Hadn’t we?

 

 

I spent most of the rest of the day texting with Neri Truesdale. She wasn’t as shy over the phone, especially with the written word. Within three or four messages, I had her telling me all about her frustrations with her mother. Apparently, they didn’t get along as well as Rowena would have me think. She was ready to escape the woman’s attention.

We should have an early breakfast, I suggested.

Where? was her immediate response.

This girl was going to be far too easy.

 

 

The executives called it a day at five. I drove them back to the hotel and took my leave, slipping up to my room with a bag containing a burger and fries. I untucked my shirt and fell onto my bed, flipping on a baseball game. My phone rang halfway through my meal, my brother calling from Yuma.

“She’s refusing to say anything, but I can see how hard it is on her, Quentin.”

I closed my eyes. “I sent some money. Did you get the insulin?”

“Yeah, but she’s rationing, refusing to take as much as she knows she needs because she’s afraid it’ll run out.”

“I sent five hundred dollars. That’s enough to buy six months’ worth!”

“She wouldn’t let me use it all on the medicine. She made me buy a bill of groceries, too, and that took most of the money.”

“Then I’ll send more.”

“She doesn’t want your money, Quentin. She feels guilty even spending that much. And when Dad found out, he blew his top. He feels like you don’t think he can take care of us.”

I grunted, angry but not surprised. It was a blow to my father’s pride to have to accept money from his grown son. But sometimes there were things more important than pride.

“I’m sending more. Just…don’t tell Father.”

“Things are bad, Quentin. Dad’s miserable. And he’s drinking all the time now. Mom’s sick all the time. I don’t know what to do anymore.”

“You want to come stay with me for a while?”

“No. Then there won’t be anyone here to make sure Mom takes at least some of her insulin.”

“Okay.”

I felt powerless, listening to him. And guilty. I should have been here when Truesdale had first served them with eviction papers, should have been here to pay the overdue payments. And I should have stopped them from leaving town. If they’d stayed here, it would have been embarrassing, but they would have had friends to support them. And I should be there. I should be with my family, taking on the burden of caring for them that my brother—at sixteen—was shouldering all on his own.

It wasn’t right.

And it was all Truesdale’s fault!

I couldn’t sit still after I disconnected the call. The hamburger was cold and greasy, the fries a disgusting pile of limp worms. I tossed it all in the garbage and grabbed my keys, heading out for a drink. I needed a damn drink!

It was like she had radar. Malaika’s door opened the same moment I stepped clear of my own.

“Mr. Forrester,” she said in that cold, collected voice.

“Ms. Gray.”

“We have to stop running into each other this way.”

I was sure it was an attempt at flirting, but I wasn’t in the mood. I just inclined my head and turned toward the stairs.

“I’m sorry about this afternoon,” she called after me. “That couldn’t have been comfortable for you, showing me around your family’s ranch.”

I hesitated. “It was great. I like to be reminded of what was stolen from us.”

She was quiet for a moment, her full lips stretched a little thinner with emotion. “I’m sorry,” she finally said, weakly.

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll get it back someday.”

“Are you sure about that?”

“You’ll have to put it up for sale eventually, and, when you do, I plan to buy it back.”

“That’s a massive undertaking, Mr. Forrester. Especially when a private investor made a cash offer just this afternoon.”

A set of cold fingers rushed down my spine. “What are you talking about?”

“Mr. Truesdale brought me an offer made by a private investor this afternoon. He says that the buyer is willing to close immediately, without an appraisal.”

“Why would he do that?”

She shrugged her thin shoulders. “I don’t know. But we will have the appraisal done.”

“And then you’ll sell it?”

“To the investor. Unless a better offer comes along before that.”

“How much is he offering?”

“A million two.”

My heart sank. That was more than twice what the mortgage had been worth. And it was about five hundred thousand more than I’d been planning to offer.

“I’m sorry,” she said again. “The whole process was handled improperly. I assure you Mr. Truesdale will be properly admonished for his actions.”

He’d be demoted. Or fired. I could see that in the angry snap in her eyes. But it felt like a hollow victory despite the fact that it was exactly what I’d wanted.

I turned away, needing that drink more than ever. I could feel her watching me, but the last thing I wanted this night was more time in her company. I needed to be alone.

I needed to reassess.