Page 46 of Long Gone

He shook his head. “No. I just know it was in the afternoon.”

“I know they must have toured the property, but were they meeting there or somewhere else?”

A sheepish look washed over his face. “I’m not sure. I only know they were going out there. We’d had a lot of rain the night before, and he was worried the utility vehicle would get stuck in the mud.”

“And the wet ground would have made the tires of the utility vehicle muddy. Which is how you’re sure the tour happened that day.”

“Yeah, definitely. Certain parts of the land were really prone to getting soggy and muddy, like the marsh. That’s where the birds lived. The ones that halted his project.”

“Do you know what happened to Sunny Point after your father disappeared?”

“I know the bank foreclosed on it.”

“Did you know it was bought soon after the bank put it on the market?”

His eyes widened. “I knew Brett Colter bought Martindale, but I didn’t know what happened with Sunny Point.”

“Brett Colter bought Martindale years later. How did you know about that purchase and not the other?”

He made a face. “They announced that Dudley, that online pet store, was putting in a distribution site and that Brett was behind it. It didn’t take much effort to put together that it was on Dad’s land.”

“Do you know if the sheriff’s department searched Sunny Point or Martindale?”

Guilt covered his face. “I don’t know.”

“They should have searched them,” I said. “It was common knowledge he was supposed to meet an investor. It stands to reason they’d do it on the property.” I needed to see the Sunny Point property, even if it was owned by someone else. “You saw the map I was looking at when you came in. It’s of Wolford and the surrounding area. Do you think you could show me where Sunny Point was?”

“Yeah,” he said. “I knew that place pretty well.”

I shoved my salad to the side and opened the map again, turning it to face him as I pulled a pen out of my purse.

He pushed his own plate to the side and pointed to a highway which ran through Wolford down to El Dorado. “It was off Highway 20. If you’re coming from Wolford, the entrance was right after you cross Meadow Creek. The road is paved and there’s still a sign there, but it’s faded now. The road goes a good quarter mile or so before it dead ends at the shed.” He ran his finger from the highway onto the land. “The northern border is the creek, probably to about here.” His finger stopped a good bit away from the highway. “Then it goes down to here.” He trailed it south on the map, then back over to the highway. “It angles back so the entrance is narrow—probably about five hundred feet—but it’s wider in the back.”

“Can you draw it?” I asked, handing him the pen.

“It won’t be perfect.”

“A guesstimate is good.”

He drew it in and I stared at it in amazement. “This looks huge.”

“It is. It’s five hundred acres. It started out at three hundred, then he bought two hundred more, realizing the project wasn’t going to move quickly enough if he was just moving large-lot luxury homes. He planned to put more affordable homes on that back section with access from this county road.” He pointed to where the property touched County Road 71.

“You know a lot for being in high school when all of this was going on and not being interested in joining your father’s business.”

He made a face. “Like I said, he wanted me to make it a family business. I hadn’t told him I wasn’t interested. I liked that he included me.” He was silent for a moment, looking close to tears. “Sometimes I think it was good something happened to him. That way he never had to find out the truth.”

“Obviously I never knew your father,” I said gently, “but everything I’ve heard so far suggests differently. He might have been a bit disappointed at first, but I’m sure he ultimately just wanted you to be happy.”

Chapter 11

Anton told me he needed to get back to the clinic, then tossed money on the table and said he’d cover the bill.

I had barely touched my salad, so I took a few more bites then grabbed my bag and headed out the door. As soon as I reached my car, I pulled out my phone and called Detective Jones. I had never asked him if they’d searched the land, and I wanted a clear answer. Thankfully he answered before it went to voicemail.

“Ah, Harper Adams,” he said, sounding amused when he answered.

“Got my number saved in your phone?” I asked, not sure how I felt about that.

---