Chapter 4 - Fire Before DawnSam called Evan at 4:12 the next morning.
“You planning to open the place yourself?” Sam called from his truck.
Evan held two coffees.
“One of these is supposed to be yours.”
Sam eyed the cup.
“From where?”
“Hotel.”
“Throw it away.”
Evan laughed.
“I remembered your coffee being bad.”
“My coffee has character.”
“Your coffee has legal exposure.”
Sam unlocked the stand.
Evan followed him inside.
Sam noticed immediately that something had changed.
The warmth from yesterday was still there, but underneath it sat tension.
“You found something.”
Evan stopped.
“You always this suspicious?”
“At seventy-three, suspicion is just experience wearing glasses.”
Evan handed him the bank notice.
Sam took it.
“I stole that,” Evan admitted.
“I noticed.”
“I’m sorry.”
“No, you’re not.”
“No.”
Sam tossed it onto the counter.
“So?”
Evan took a breath.
“The company buying the surrounding properties is called North Ridge Development.”
Sam’s face became unreadable.
“You know them?”
“I know the name.”
Evan studied him.
“Who are they?”
Sam turned on the grill.
“Property people.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“They’ve been around for six months.”
“What do they want?”
Sam remained silent.
Evan’s tone softened.
“Sam.”
“They want this corner.”
“Why?”
“Because the county approved a new connector road.”
Evan knew instantly what that meant.
Traffic.
Commercial access.
Land values.
Sam continued.
“New road runs about half a mile south. North Ridge wants to build a travel plaza—gas, restaurants, hotel, maybe a warehouse.”
“And your property?”
“Main entrance would work better if they owned it.”
“How much did they offer?”
“First time? One hundred eighty thousand.”
“That doesn’t sound terrible for this parcel.”
“It wasn’t.”
“Then why refuse?”
Sam looked around.
“This place is all I have left of Helen.”
Evan understood.
Sam’s wife had worked the register beside him for thirty-five years.
Evan had never met her.
But from the photographs taped behind the counter, he felt as though she were still part of the stand.
“Then they offered two-fifty,” Sam said.
“And?”
“No.”
“Three hundred?”
“Eventually.”
“You still refused?”
“Yep.”
Evan rubbed his jaw.
“What happened after that?”
“Inspections.”
Sam flipped on the exhaust hood.
“County suddenly found grease-trap problems. Health inspector started coming twice a month. Insurance premium doubled. Supplier stopped extending credit. Then Bellwood Community Bank refused to restructure the Helen debt.”
Evan went still.
“That loan existed before North Ridge?”
“Medical bills. We borrowed against the property.”
“How much?”
“Enough.”
“Sam.”
“Hundred and sixteen thousand now.”
Evan nodded slowly.
“And North Ridge offered to buy the loan?”
Sam looked at him sharply.
“How do you know?”
“They haven’t?”
“Not directly.”
“Who did?”
Sam pulled a folder from beneath the counter.
Inside were letters.
Offers.
Warnings.
One was from an attorney representing an investment company offering to purchase Sam’s debt from the bank and lease the property back to him.
Evan read the company name.
Holloway Asset Partners.
His jaw tightened.
North Ridge Development was owned by Holloway Asset Partners.
Same people.
Sam had never known.
“They’re squeezing you.”
Sam shrugged.
“They call it business.”
“No. Business is negotiation. This is pressure.”
Sam looked at him.
“Pressure is legal.”
“Sometimes.”
“You sound like you want to start a war.”
Evan’s eyes stayed on the documents.
“I didn’t come here for one.”
“That wasn’t what I said.”
Before Evan could answer, a white pickup entered the lot.
A heavyset man in his late fifties climbed out.
He wore a golf shirt, khakis, and the expression of someone entering property he already considered his.
Sam sighed.
“Speak of the devil.”
The man approached.
“Morning, Sam.”
“Doug.”
Doug Holloway stopped when he saw Evan.
Recognition came instantly.
Most businessmen in Ohio knew Evan Cole.
Doug’s confident expression flickered.
“Mr. Cole.”
“Mr. Holloway.”
“You two know each other?” Sam asked.
“Professionally,” Evan said.
Doug recovered quickly.
“I didn’t realize Cole Meridian had interests in Bellwood.”
“We don’t.”
Doug smiled.
“Then I assume you’re here for breakfast.”
“Something like that.”
Doug turned toward Sam.
“I need an answer on the purchase agreement.”
“You got my answer last week.”
“That number expires Friday.”
“I don’t care.”
Doug’s smile thinned.
“Sam, you’re making this personal.”
“It is personal. It’s my property.”
“You’re months from losing it.”
Evan stepped closer.
“Interesting thing to say.”
Doug turned.
“What?”
“You’re unusually familiar with his banking situation.”
Doug gave a practiced shrug.
“Small town.”
“No. Small towns gossip about divorces and football. They don’t usually gossip about commercial loan maturity dates.”
Sam watched both men.
Doug’s expression hardened.
“You implying something?”
“I’m listening.”
Doug looked back at Sam.
“This stand won’t survive another winter.”
“Maybe not.”
“You’re seventy-three.”
“Still older than you.”
“You’re drowning in debt.”
“And still not selling to you.”
Doug’s cheeks reddened.
“The bank doesn’t care about nostalgia, Sam.”
Evan’s voice became cold.
“But banks care deeply about regulatory investigations.”
Silence.
Doug stared at him.
Evan continued.
“So do county ethics boards.”
“What exactly are you accusing me of?”
“Nothing yet.”
“Then choose your words carefully.”
“I always do.”
Doug looked at Sam again.
“Friday.”
Then he walked back to his truck.
As he drove away, Sam turned on Evan.
“What was that?”
“Conversation.”
“That was two roosters deciding which one owns the barnyard.”
Evan almost smiled.
“He’s hiding something.”
“You don’t know that.”
“Yes, I do.”
“How?”
“Because Doug Holloway hates me.”
Sam frowned.
“Why?”
Evan looked out the window.
“Seven years ago, Holloway tried to buy a freight terminal in Dayton.”
“And?”
“I bought it first.”
“That’s it?”
“No.”
Evan hesitated.
“His son worked for me afterward.”
Sam immediately heard what wasn’t being said.
“What happened?”
“His son was fired.”
“For?”
“Embezzlement.”
Sam leaned against the counter.
“How much?”
“Three million.”
“Good Lord.”
“We didn’t prosecute.”
“Why not?”
“His mother had terminal cancer. Doug begged me not to destroy the family publicly. His son repaid most of it.”
“And Doug still hates you?”
“He thinks I humiliated them.”
Sam snorted.
“People have interesting definitions of humiliation.”
Evan’s phone rang.
His attorney.
He answered.
“Yes?”
Her voice came through clearly enough that Sam heard part of it.
“We found a connection between Holloway and Bellwood Community Bank.”
Evan’s expression hardened.
“What connection?”
“Doug Holloway’s brother-in-law is on the bank’s board.”
Sam stopped moving.
Evan glanced at him.
“Anything else?”
“Yes.”
A pause.
“The county inspector who issued Turner’s violations used to work for Holloway Development.”
Sam slowly sat down.
Evan ended the call.
For several seconds, neither man spoke.
Finally Sam said, “Coincidence?”
Evan looked toward the white pickup disappearing on the highway.
“Maybe.”
“You don’t believe that.”
“No.”
Sam rubbed both hands over his face.
“What do we do?”
It was the first time he had said we.
Evan noticed.
“We find proof.”
“And if there isn’t any?”
“Then I help you beat the foreclosure honestly.”
Sam narrowed his eyes.
“With money?”
“With options.”
“No charity.”
“Understood.”
Evan began to leave.
Sam called after him.
“Evan.”
He turned.
“Why does this matter so much?”
Evan stared at him.
“Because thirty-one years ago, when everyone else saw a dirty kid with eighty-seven cents, you saw a human being.”
His voice lowered.
“I built my entire life trying to become the kind of man who deserved what you did for me.”
Sam had no answer.
Evan walked toward his car.
Then Sam noticed something beneath the windshield wiper of his own truck.
A white envelope.
He pulled it free.
No stamp.
No name.
Inside was a photograph.
It showed Sam standing behind his burger stand.
Taken from across the highway.
Beneath it was a handwritten message.
May you like
SELL FRIDAY.
OR YOU WON’T HAVE A STAND LEFT TO SAVE.
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