Chapter 6 - Nolan’s Investigation
Two days later, Nolan asked Marin to meet him at the old lookout ridge above the eastern block—the very land Larkstone had slated for luxury villas and infinity pools.
The wind swept over the terraced hills, carrying the fresh scent of wild mustard and damp earth. Nolan was sitting on the tailgate of his pickup truck, a set of original estate topographical maps spread out before him.
“I owe you an apology,” Nolan said as Marin walked up, wrapping her wool coat tighter against the breeze. “A real one. I should have verified every single document with you directly.”
“Vanessa was your fiancée,” Marin said, resting her hands on the truck’s tailgate. “People don't routinely expect the person they intend to marry to forge legal documents.”
“It’s more than that,” Nolan sighed, looking out over the rows of old-growth vines. “Sterling and his executives didn’t just want to build a resort here. Look at these water rights.”
He pointed to a highlighted section on the survey.
“Larkstone’s primary holding company is an industrial water bottling syndicate based out of Chicago. They don't build resorts to run them, Marin. They build resorts to rezone agricultural water tables into commercial utility zones. Within three years, they would have drained Veil House’s deep aquifers to supply their bottling plant across the county line. The vineyard would have died.”
Marin looked at the map, a chill settling over her that had nothing to do with the wind. “Vanessa knew this?”
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“Sterling promised her a penthouse in Chicago and a five percent gross override on the water extraction profits,” Nolan said grimly. “She wasn’t trying to modernize the vineyard. She was selling the soil right out from under your feet.”
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