"They hired outside counsel."
"Good."
"And an accountant."
"Good."
Then she became serious. "They found another account."
I closed my eyes. "Of course they did."
"Phase Three land reserve."
"How much?"
"3.4 million."
I sat up. "Did it move?"
"About 1.1 million did, to multiple places. Some went to a real engineering company, some to surveyors, some to legal work—those could be legitimate. Then there were payments to Blue Ridge, Parker Community Planning, and another company: Stonegate Property Services."
"Owners?"
"Steven Cole, Brookstone's property manager."
Now three people tied to the project had companies receiving money: Linda, her husband Mark, Steven.
Rachel looked at me. "This doesn't mean every payment was fake. Some services may be real. But the conflicts were not clearly disclosed."
That mattered. Then she showed me one Stonegate invoice: *Owner transition management: $75,000.*
"What did Steven transition?"
"Apparently you."
"I missed it."
She almost smiled. Another invoice: *Possession compliance coordination: $48,000.*
I stared at it. "Was that the mowing fight?"
"Possibly."
Then another: *Landscape control enforcement: $32,000.*
Now we were getting closer: Brookstone had paid Steven's company to help enforce landscape control on land they did not own—my front yard, my orchard edge, my driveway. The whole thing was starting to look less like an HOA misunderstanding and more like a private development project hiding inside an HOA.
The outside accountant dug deeper. Two days later, Charles called me. "Daniel, are you sitting?"
"Yes."
"Good. The 800,000 deposit never reached a title company."
I frowned. "None of it?"
"No."
"Then where is it?"
"Blue Ridge."
"I know that."
"No, I mean it stayed inside Blue Ridge accounts."
My stomach tightened. "Did they spend it?"
"Some."
"How much?"