Chapter 10 - The Offer
Evan Rourke surrendered to Tennessee authorities the next morning.
He was not arrested.
He entered an interview room with an attorney.
Malcolm learned only fragments.
Rourke admitted conducting drilling on the ridge.
He denied placing explosive charges.
He claimed he had been ordered to deepen existing exploratory holes along coordinates supplied by Summit Crown.
Those coordinates matched Isaiah’s fracture map.
He also claimed Price told him the purpose was to “accelerate geotechnical evaluation.”
Malcolm laughed when Mercer repeated the phrase.
“That doesn’t mean anything.”
“It means lawyers were involved before drilling started.”
“What proof does Rourke have?”
“Emails.”
“From Price?”
“Some.”
“Some?”
“Others came through Sloan.”
Tasha stared.
“Patrick Sloan was directing field work?”
“Rourke says he acted as project liaison.”
Malcolm shook his head.
“My father trusted that man.”
“Maybe once.”
Later that day Summit Crown’s attorneys contacted Malcolm through a newly hired lawyer, Renee Carter.
Renee was a Black attorney in her mid-forties with a reputation for environmental litigation and an inability to be impressed by wealthy men.
Her first words to Malcolm were, “Stop calling people yourself.”
His second lesson was, “Stop threatening to sue everyone.”
His third was, “Do not post anything online.”
Malcolm disliked all three instructions.
Tasha loved Renee instantly.
The settlement proposal arrived electronically at 4:16 p.m.
Summit Crown offered:
$3.8 million to purchase the entire Brooks property.
Full reimbursement for temporary housing.
Payment of reasonable uninsured property losses.
No admission of wrongdoing.
Mutual confidentiality.
Waiver of civil claims.
Malcolm stared at the number.
Tasha sat beside him.
Neither spoke.
Finally she said, “That is more money than we have ever seen.”
“Yes.”
“It would clear everything.”
“Yes.”
“College.”
“Yes.”
“A house anywhere.”
“Yes.”
She looked at him.
“I’m not saying take it.”
“I know.”
“I need you to know that.”
He nodded.
Renee sat across from them.
“The offer is intentionally attractive.”
“Because they’re scared,” Malcolm said.
“Maybe.”
“You always say maybe too?”
“I charge four hundred dollars an hour to say it.”
Tasha laughed despite herself.
Renee continued.
“They could also be calculating risk. A destroyed residence, emotional distress, potential punitive exposure, regulatory problems, mineral valuation complications. Buying the land ends several uncertainties.”
Malcolm asked, “What happens if we refuse?”
“We investigate. Insurance fights. Civil discovery. Possibly years.”
“And if evidence proves intentional blasting?”
“Then criminal authorities make their own decisions.”
Tasha looked down.
“What about the children?”
Renee’s expression softened.
“Litigation is stressful. Public attention is worse. You need to decide what outcome protects your family, not what outcome feels most satisfying.”
Malcolm disliked that because it sounded like something Isaiah might have said.
That evening, Celeste came to the safe house.
She placed a cashier’s check on the kitchen table.
Twenty thousand dollars.
Malcolm stared at it.
“What is this?”
“The money I took from the trust.”
“You said you repaid it.”
“I repaid it using Summit Crown’s access payment.”
“This is from where?”
“I sold my car.”
Tasha looked outside.
“You loved that car.”
Celeste smiled weakly.
“I loved pretending I had not done something shameful more.”
Malcolm pushed the check back.
“I don’t want it.”
“It doesn’t belong to you. It belongs to the trust.”
“Then deposit it there.”
“I can’t. Renee told me not to move trust funds during the investigation.”
Malcolm looked at her.
“You talked to Renee?”
“I asked whether I needed my own lawyer.”
“You do.”
“I know.”
Celeste sat.
“I’m resigning as trustee.”
Malcolm said nothing.
“I should.”
“Yes.”
She flinched.
He did not apologize.
Consequences were not cruelty.
Celeste looked toward the living room where Nia watched cartoons.
“Will you ever forgive me?”
Malcolm answered carefully.
“I don’t know.”
She nodded.
“That’s fair.”
After she left, Malcolm found Nia sitting on the floor with colored pencils.
She had drawn four stick figures inside a gray square.
“What’s that?”
“The bunker.”
“Who’s that?”
“You.”
“And that?”
“Mommy.”
“Jordan?”
“Yes.”
“And you.”
Nia nodded.
Outside the square she had drawn enormous brown circles.
Rocks.
Malcolm sat beside her.
“Do you want to talk about that day?”
“No.”
“Okay.”
She colored silently.
Then she asked, “Are we going back?”
“To the mountain?”
“Yes.”
“Someday.”
Her pencil stopped.
“To live?”
Malcolm did not answer quickly enough.
Nia looked at him.
“I don’t want to.”
The simplicity of it broke something inside him.
For days, Malcolm had thought about evidence, betrayal, property value, his father, justice.
Nia was thinking about sleep.
He kissed the top of her head.
“We won’t live anywhere that makes you afraid every day.”
“Promise?”
He remembered Jordan asking the same word.
Promise.
Malcolm nodded.
“Yes.”
That night he told Tasha.
“I’m willing to sell.”
She studied him.
“To Summit Crown?”
“No.”
“Then to who?”
“I don’t know yet.”
His phone buzzed.
Renee.
She had received a new document through discovery preservation requests.
A 2020 email from Patrick Sloan to Leon Price.
The subject line:
BROOKS RIDGE — WAIT FOR ISAIAH
The body contained one sentence.
Once the old man is gone, Celeste will be easier, and Malcolm won’t understand what he owns.
Malcolm stared at the screen.
Tasha whispered, “Your father was right.”
Malcolm shook his head.
“No.”
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He reread the sentence.
“He was surrounded.”
