Deputy Harris noticed my face. "Not yours?"
"No."
Linda said immediately, "You can't just deny it now!"
I stared at her. "I can deny it because I didn't sign it."
She folded her arms. "The HOA relied on that agreement."
Rachel looked at her. "Who gave it to you?"
"Our property manager."
"Name?"
"Steven Cole."
That name was familiar: Brookstone's property manager. He had emailed me twice about landscaping complaints.
Rachel took a photo of the document. Then she asked, "Was this recorded?"
Linda hesitated. "Parts were filed."
That was not good. "What parts?" Rachel asked.
No answer.
Then my phone rang. It was my ranch manager, Sam Wilson. I answered, "Daniel."
"What's wrong?"
"You need to come to the east pasture."
"Why?"
"There are survey crews here." My stomach tightened. "From Brookstone?"
"They say yes."
"How many?"
"Three trucks."
I looked at Linda. She was staring at her phone.
I asked Sam, "What are they doing?"
"Marking something."
"What?"
He paused. "House lots."
Everything around me went quiet. "What?"
"There are stakes that say Lot 11, Lot 12, Lot 13."
I stared across the ranch toward the eastern pasture. Linda suddenly started walking toward her SUV.
Rachel called out, "Where are you going?"
"I have a meeting."
I stepped forward. "Not yet."
Deputy Harris put himself between us. "Let her leave, Daniel. No confrontation."
Linda got into her SUV and drove away.
The deputies followed us to the east pasture. When we arrived, the survey crew had already stopped. Sam stood beside them.
One surveyor walked over. "Mr. Brooks?"