The Missing Originals Turned Into An Offer To Buy Silence

Gideon's next offer came through Neal Cross.

He would pay me $95,000, let me keep my car, and release what the letter called my hobby cultures. In return, I would withdraw my ownership notice and sign a broad release.

There was also a paragraph that barred me from discussing the disputed documents.

Elin read it aloud.

"Do you want time to consider?"

"Does he get to tell the buyer he owns Pine Shade Six?"

"The proposed release would let him argue that you settled that claim."

"Then no."

It was hard to say. Ruth's spare bed hurt my back. My savings were nearly gone. I had started washing trays for a greenhouse three mornings a week at $19 an hour.

The number in that letter could have bought quiet for a long time.

But I kept seeing my name below words I had never agreed to.

I took a copy of the offer home. Under the release paragraph, I drew a blue pencil line. Then I read it to Ruth without the dollar figure.

"Would you sign that?" I asked.

"I wouldn't know what I was giving away."

Neither did I. I put the copy in the box and went to work.

Claire's report arrived the following Monday. The signatures on both disputed agreements matched the insurance signature in size, angle, and small flaws. The black spot beside the C matched, too.

In her opinion, they were copies of the same signature image. She could not identify the person who placed them there from the images alone.

The company records supplied the next piece. Both disputed files had been created in a folder on Gideon's work account shortly before they were sent out as ownership proof. The folder also held the old insurance scan.

His account had no record of sending either agreement to me for approval.

"He'll say someone used his password," I said.

"He may," Elin said. "We ask questions and compare the answers with records."

She filed a separate civil case over the strain rights and the diverted payments, naming Gideon, Porchlight, Mara, and Dry Creek where their conduct was at issue. The divorce case would handle our marriage and property division. The civil case would settle the ownership and accounting claims.

We also gave the suspected forgery evidence to investigators. Elin warned me that their work had its own pace.

"A report isn't a charge," she said.

"I want the record made."

At Gideon's sworn deposition, I sat behind Elin with a glass of water between my hands.

"Where are the signed originals?" she asked.

"They may have been lost during cleanup."

"Who saw Claudia sign them?"

"I don't recall."

"Were you present?"

Neal shifted in his chair.

"We had an understanding," Gideon said.

"That wasn't my question."

He looked toward me.

I watched the water instead.

Eventually he said he had not seen me sign either document. He claimed I had given him general permission to handle business papers.

Elin showed him the signed reservation clause.

"This requires Claudia's written consent to a transfer. Where is it?"

"She was my wife."

The court reporter's keys clicked.

When we broke for lunch, Gideon followed us into the hall.

"I kept the lights on while you played with grain," he said.

Elin stepped between us.

"Speak through counsel."

He held up both palms, as if he had offered help.

Mara's records were less smooth. Under the civil court's production orders, Dry Creek supplied its invoices and emails. Tessa found that three service reports repeated the same equipment readings down to the tenth of a degree.

One report described a visit to a growing room that had not yet been built.

"Maybe she used a template," I said.

"A template doesn't explain billing for a room that wasn't there."

Mara testified that Gideon supplied the technical descriptions. She admitted she had not visited the growers named on the nine invoices. Her company had kept $62,000 in an account after paying personal expenses and transferring the rest.

Elin sought an order preserving that balance. The judge granted it after a hearing. It did not put the money in my pocket, but it stopped the balance from shrinking.

Juniper Kettle then ended its purchase agreement under the title provisions. The escrow agent returned its $50,000 deposit. Owen sent a brief note confirming the deal was over.

I sat with that message for a while.

The sale Gideon had waved over my head was gone. Our staff still needed wages. Our growers still needed clean spawn.

"We need a plan for the lab," I told Elin.

"We do. First, there's something you should see."

She passed me Mara's newly produced email to Gideon.

The subject line read: Claudia's Signature File.