Chapter 24: The Pool Photograph Nobody Remembered
The next clue appeared in a place I had stopped looking.
My real estate closing folder contained an old listing brochure showing the backyard before I bought the house.
The photograph had been taken from an upstairs bedroom, and the pool reflected a cloudless summer sky.
Behind the diving board stood a small wooden shed that no longer existed.
The previous owner told me she had removed the shed because it attracted insects.
I had never thought about it again.
Now the photograph interested me for a different reason.
A narrow strip of concrete extended from the shed toward the back fence.
It aligned with the abandoned service lane on Arthur’s drawing.
I sent the image to Simon.
He asked whether I would allow a nonintrusive site visit with a licensed surveyor.
I agreed after Naomi reviewed the access arrangement.
The surveyor, Dana Whitcomb, came the following morning with a measuring wheel and a portable mapping receiver.
She did not dig or open any structures.
She compared the visible boundaries with recorded easement documents.
Her preliminary observations suggested that the old lane ended outside my pool enclosure.
The concrete strip in the photograph was probably a walkway built by the previous owner.
I felt foolish for imagining a secret underground passage.
Dana noticed my disappointment.
“Eliminating a theory is useful,” she said.
“It keeps you from wasting effort proving something that isn’t there.”
Before leaving, she pointed toward a narrow municipal parcel behind the adjacent lot.
“The recorded access route appears to run through that strip,” she said.
“That land belongs to the town.”
The strip was overgrown with blackberry bushes and partly hidden by a fence.
It had never been listed in the acquisition materials Grant showed residents.
If Dana was correct, Hearthline could potentially approach the creek without buying my property.
The consultant’s entire argument about my backyard depended on treating an alternative access route as unavailable.
Naomi requested the relevant municipal parcel records.
The town provided them the next day.
They confirmed an access easement reserved for drainage maintenance.
I sat at my kitchen table and laughed for the first time in weeks.
The answer was not a hidden tunnel or a dramatic discovery beneath the pool.
It was an ordinary public right-of-way that had been left off a persuasive map.
Chapter 25: A Visit From Peter Sloane
Peter Sloane requested a meeting through Naomi rather than showing up at my door.
I appreciated that small courtesy more than I expected.
We met in her office on a rainy Thursday.
Peter looked tired and carried a binder with color-coded tabs.
He had joined Hearthline two years earlier after working in commercial property management.
He explained that Grant was contracted to identify willing sellers and provide preliminary information about local concerns.
Hearthline had not authorized him to trespass, stage demonstrations, or produce misleading community videos.
“Then why was my parcel marked secured?” I asked.
Peter opened the binder.
The status had been imported from Mercer’s monthly acquisition reports.
According to those reports, I had verbally indicated willingness to negotiate and agreed to review relocation terms.
“I did neither,” I said.
Peter nodded.
“We have no signed document from you.”
He showed Naomi the reporting form.
Grant had entered my name in a field reserved for contact confirmation.
There was no separate authorization for a signature.
“Who reviewed those reports?” Naomi asked.
Peter admitted that his team had accepted the submissions as preliminary without verifying each homeowner’s position.
“We should have checked,” he said.
I asked whether Grant had been paid for my supposed cooperation.
Peter hesitated, then answered.
The contract included a milestone fee when a parcel reached the secured-review category.
The fee was not a final purchase commission.
But it was enough money to create an incentive to misrepresent progress.
“Did he get the fee?” I asked.
Peter looked at Naomi.
“We are reviewing that payment and other submissions.”
I did not appreciate the carefully limited answer.
Naomi did.
She asked Peter to preserve the reports, emails, payment records, and instructions given to Mercer Property Advisory.
He agreed in writing before leaving.
At the door, he turned back toward me.
“I am sorry our process gave him room to do this,” he said.
I wanted an apology that included action.
“Then change the process,” I replied.
He lowered his eyes.
“We intend to.”
I watched him leave, wondering how many people could hide behind the word preliminary while someone else lived with the consequences.
