The room had begun asking questions.
And questions were dangerous when the person selling the dream could no longer answer them.
Outside, Harold approached Daniel.
“I owe you an apology.”
“You believed what you were told.”
“I should’ve checked.”
“So should everyone.”
Harold looked toward Mercer Farm.
“Are you really going to fight this?”
“I’m going to stop it.”
“How?”
“Legally.”
Harold smiled.
“That sounds expensive.”
“Probably.”
“Want help?”
He pulled out his phone.
“I know seven people who want their deposits back.”
That was how the pressure started.
Not with sirens.
Not with a dramatic lawsuit.
With people asking for records.
Residents requested financial statements.
Board members demanded Patricia’s contracts.
The county received complaints.
The state aviation commission received complaints.
Federal aviation reviewers received complaints.
Meanwhile, Patricia accelerated construction.
She believed speed could create legitimacy.
Pour enough asphalt.
Collect enough deposits.
Advertise loudly enough.
Make the airpark feel inevitable.
Then nobody would stop it.
She was wrong.
But she was not finished.
Another truck entered Daniel’s land.
He photographed the plate.
The driver walked over.
“We were told this was authorized.”
“By whom?”
“The HOA.”
“Did you see the deed?”
“No.”
“A signed easement?”
“No.”
“Then leave.”
The driver looked embarrassed.
“I have a contract.”
“So do I.”
Daniel pointed at the property marker.
“Mine is called ownership.”
The truck left.
Three hours later the sheriff arrived.
“You’re building quite a file.”
“I’d rather be fishing.”
The sheriff looked across the runway.
“Does it really matter that much?”
Daniel pointed toward the approach.
“Look at the power lines.”
The sheriff followed his finger.
“Those?”
“Yes.”
“The homes?”
“Too close.”
“The pond?”
“Drainage.”
“The trees?”
“Approach obstruction.”
The sheriff frowned.
“So even without the property dispute...”
“The runway still has serious safety problems.”
That afternoon state aviation inspectors arrived.
Measurements.
Photographs.
Coordinates.
Plan review.
One inspector eventually shook his head.
“Who designed this?”
“Curtis Bale.”
“That explains a lot.”
By sunset, the state had issued a stop-work directive.
Daniel thought the dispute might finally be ending.
The next morning Patricia announced the grand opening.
Flyers appeared in every mailbox.