Chapter 9 - Confrontation at the County Courthouse
Before we could run to the front gate, the roar of multiple engines echoed from the road.
Arthur’s face hardened. "Paige, take Josie into the master bathroom, lock the door, and do not open it for anyone except Deputy Miller. Gerald, get in my sedan. We aren't fighting these thugs on the gravel. We fight them in the courtroom."
We didn't wait. Arthur gunned the engine of his Lincoln Town Car, blasting through the open gate just as two unmarked flatbed tow trucks turned off County Road 400. The drivers blared their air horns, trying to box us in, but Arthur swung the heavy sedan onto the grassy shoulder, churning turf and mud, and rocketed toward the state highway.
The thirty-minute drive to Albion felt like thirty seconds and thirty years all at once.
We stormed up the granite steps of the Noble County Courthouse at 11:15 AM. Arthur Vance didn't bother scheduling a docket slot. He pushed straight past the bailiff into Judge Holbrook’s chambers, clutching the 2023-watermarked deed, the spiral ledger, and the burner phone.
Judge Sarah Holbrook—a no-nonsense jurist who had known my family since my brother ran the grain elevator in Ligonier—took one look at the documents and slammed her pen onto her mahogany desk.
"This is an organized criminal racket," Judge Holbrook said, her eyes flashing with fury. "Arthur, why was I not informed that Apex Horizon had filed a writ of execution in my county?"
"Because they filed it under an obscure corporate alias through an administrative loophole in the Allen County small-claims registry, Your Honor," Arthur replied, out of breath. "They intend to seize Gerald Vance’s shoreline by physical force within the hour."
Judge Holbrook stood up, buttoning her black judicial robe. "Not in my county, they don't."
Ten minutes later, we were standing in an empty courtroom as Judge Holbrook signed an emergency ex parte injunction and issued four immediate warrants for grand larceny, racketeering, and perjury against Victor Crane and his associates.
"Sheriff," Judge Holbrook commanded through the intercom to dispatch, "deploy every available road unit to the Gerald Vance property on Indian Lake. Full intervention authority. Detain every individual and impound every commercial vehicle on that parcel."
I leaned against the mahogany railing of the jury box, my vision swimming with exhaustion and relief.
"We got them, Arthur," I murmured.
May you like
"We got the warrants, Gerald," Arthur said, his hand resting on my shoulder. "Now we have to get back to the house before Crane’s animals tear it down."
***
