“Phase two.”
“When?”
“After the runway becomes operational.”
“When is that?”
“We’re still on schedule.”
Daniel opened his folder.
“The runway does not have legal site control.”
Harold turned.
“She told us that was resolved.”
“It wasn’t.”
Patricia interrupted.
“This is an administrative misunderstanding.”
Daniel raised the agreement.
“Then explain this.”
His forged signature was clearly visible.
Curtis Bale stood against the wall.
Patricia turned toward him.
“You prepared it.”
“I prepared the form.”
“Who signed it?”
“The board returned it.”
Something changed in Patricia’s expression.
Fear.
Small.
Almost invisible.
But there.
A resident named Susan spoke.
“Patricia, did you tell us Daniel signed this?”
“I told you land access was resolved.”
“That isn’t what I asked.”
Patricia straightened.
“This meeting is becoming unnecessarily hostile.”
Harold stood.
“Where is my ten thousand dollars?”
Other residents joined him.
“I paid five.”
“I paid eight.”
“Twelve.”
“You promised guaranteed hangar access.”
“You said the runway was approved.”
“You told us the farm had been donated.”
Patricia raised her voice.
“The project is approved.”
Daniel answered calmly.
“No.”
She glared.
“You are not an aviation authority.”
Daniel almost smiled.
He could have ended the argument there.
Instead he returned the deed to his folder.
“You don’t need federal expertise to understand trespassing.”
Curtis stepped forward.
“Mr. Mercer, you are deliberately combining separate issues.”
“Then separate them.”
“Development access.”
“On private land.”
“Temporary.”
“Without permission.”
“Under agreement.”
“With my forged signature.”
Curtis looked toward Patricia.
She looked away.
Then Daniel asked the question that changed the room.
“How much money has the HOA collected for this project?”
Patricia said nothing.
Harold answered.
“At least two hundred thousand.”
Daniel looked toward Patricia.
“Where is that money?”
“In the development account.”
“Which account?”
“The association aviation account.”
“Who controls it?”
“The board.”
“Who has signing authority?”
“Several board members.”
Daniel looked at the residents.
“Then request the bank statements.”
Patricia struck the table.
“This meeting is over.”
“No,” Harold said.
Patricia stared at him.
“I want to know where my money is.”
Other residents stood.
Daniel said nothing more.
He did not need to.