Just hearing her voice loosened something in his chest. "I'm at the station. I've been digging into Prescott's grandfather and the old resort plans."
"Did you find something?" She sounded more alert now. He could picture her sitting up in bed, hair mussed from sleep.
"Maybe. There's a company called Western Development Associates. They were representing Prescott back in theseventies, but I can't find detailed records online. Just references in meeting minutes."
Silence for a moment. Then Joy said, "My friend Angela Madison from Fate Mountain Beekeeping Association works at county records. Let me call her and get back to you."
"Good thinking. I'll wait for your call."
Andre hung up and paced the conference room. Within five minutes, his phone rang again.
"Andre? It's Joy. I talked to Angela. She says those would be in deep storage, but she can pull them and have them ready by eleven."
Relief flooded through Andre. "That's perfect. Thank you."
"I'll come with you," Joy said.
“I’ll come pick you up. I’m on my way now.”
After they hung up, he closed the laptop and headed for his truck. The drive to Buck and Maria's house took twenty minutes. Andre had memorized every turn, every landmark. His protective instincts had mapped multiple routes, calculating response times from various locations.
He found Joy in the kitchen, both hands wrapped around a steaming mug. The bandages were gone now, just faint pink lines crossing her palms. She looked up when he entered, and something electric passed between them.
"Coffee's fresh," Maria said from the stove where she was scrambling eggs in a cast iron pan.
Andre poured a cup, grateful for the pick-me-up. Joy shifted her chair, making room for him at the table. "Show me what you found," she said.
Andre pulled out his phone, swiping to the screenshots. Joy leaned close, her shoulder pressing against his arm. Her scent wrapped around him, lavender soap and Joy.
"Western Development Associates," she read. "And they were representing Prescott?"
"That's what I'm hoping to confirm. The meeting minutes reference them multiple times, always in connection with the resort proposal."
Maria set plates in front of them. "Eat. You can't investigate on empty stomachs."
They ate quickly, Andre barely tasting the food. His mind kept circling back to Western Development. Why use a shell company? What was Prescott hiding even then?
Joy's hand found his under the table, fingers interlacing. "We'll figure it out," she said quietly.
At ten-thirty, they drove to the county courthouse. The building sat square and solid in the middle of town, red brick faded by decades of mountain weather. Andre parked in the visitor lot, his truck dwarfing the compact cars around it.
Inside, the records office occupied the entire basement level. Fluorescent lights hummed overhead, casting harsh shadows.
Angela stood behind the counter, a woman in her late twenties with shoulder-length brown hair. Her face lit up when she saw Joy.
"I've got everything pulled," she said, gesturing to a cart loaded with banker's boxes. "Three boxes, all from Western Development Associates. 1974 to 1975."
She led them to a small viewing room. The wooden table bore decades of scratches and coffee stains. Angela helped them unload the boxes, dust motes dancing in the air.
"Take your time," she said. "I'll be at the desk if you need anything."
Andre opened the first box. The smell of old paper filled his nose, musty and somehow threatening. Joy sat beside him.
"Where do we start?" she asked.
"Chronologically." Andre lifted out a stack of folders. "Let's see how this began."
The first documents were routine. Property surveys. Feasibility studies. Market analysis showing projected tourist revenue. Andre photographed each page with his phone, building a digital record.
