Chapter 3 - THE THIRD SUVThe next morning, Alan arrived at the Ashford Ranch with three black SUVs.
A locksmith climbed out of the first.
Alan stepped from the second.
The third remained mysterious.
He walked toward the main house as though he already owned it.
His white shirt was open at the collar.
His expensive watch flashed in the morning sunlight.
"Change the locks," he ordered.
The locksmith nodded.
Then the third SUV door opened.
Victoria Vance stepped out.
Fifty-eight.
Elegant.
Cold.
The principal trustee of the Margaret Ashford Vance Memorial Trust.
And Margaret's older sister.
Behind her came Texas Ranger Marcus Graves.
Alan froze.
Victoria looked at the locksmith.
"Put your tools away."
Alan's face tightened.
"Victoria, this is family business."
"No," she replied. "This is criminal business."
The front door opened.
Clifford stepped outside.
His cheek was still purple.
His lip was split.
But his posture was straight.
Alan stared at him.
"Clifford?"
"You didn't expect me to be here?"
"I thought you were confused."
Clifford smiled faintly.
"You thought wrong."
Robert Hawthorne stepped forward with a thick legal binder.
"Mr. Cole, you are hereby prohibited from entering this property."
Alan's confidence cracked.
"You can't do this."
Victoria stepped closer.
"We can."
She pointed toward the ranch.
"This land was placed into an irrevocable trust ten years ago."
Alan looked toward Clifford.
Then toward the gate.
Then toward the road.
For the first time, he realized something terrifying.
He had not been dealing with an old man.
He had been dealing with a man who had been preparing for him.
Robert opened the binder.
"$4.2 million preliminary loan application."
Alan said nothing.
"Forged signature."
Still nothing.
"Offshore account."
Alan's face drained.
Clifford finally spoke.
"You didn't get caught, Alan."
May you like
He looked directly into Alan's eyes.
"You finished catching yourself."
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