Cassie needs this bedroom for her spiritual purification retreats. Your medical recovery bed is set up in the hallway.
A heavy-set SUV with county markings rumbled up my gravel driveway. Lyle Pemberton emerged first, a smug look back on his face. Then, Sheriff Thomas Carver stepped out, his expression grim.
“Mrs. Hensley,” Sheriff Carver said, approaching the porch, his hand resting on his belt. “We have an administrative eviction order here, based on a tithe-lien against your property. I need you to clear the house.”
My heart pounded. This was it. They were using the frozen bank accounts, the false tithe-lien, to force me out. And this time, they had the law on their side, or so they thought.
“Sheriff,” I began, my voice steady despite the tremor in my hands. “That tithe-lien is fraudulent. My funds were illegally frozen.”
Pemberton stepped forward, a smirk on his face. “The lien is fully notarized, Sheriff. Mrs. Hensley’s refusal to comply with the Covenant’s tenets leaves her without recourse.”
Just as Sheriff Carver started to nod, a beat-up sedan screeched to a halt behind the patrol car. Mark Higgins jumped out, a thick folder of documents clutched in his hand.
“Sheriff Carver!” Mark called out, his voice urgent. “I have some critical public records that put this entire eviction in question!”
He hurried up to the porch, his eyes blazing with purpose. He presented a stack of papers to the Sheriff.
“These are land registry documents, Sheriff,” Mark explained, pointing to specific entries. “They show a clear pattern of fraudulent transfers. And more importantly, they reveal direct financial ties between Lyle Pemberton and the Order of the Living Covenant’s land trust.”
Sheriff Carver took the documents, his brow furrowing as he read. His gaze moved from the papers to Pemberton, then to Miriam, who stood stone-faced behind me.
“Mr. Pemberton,” Sheriff Carver said slowly, his voice laced with suspicion. “These records indicate you’ve been acting as the notary, the appraiser, and also as a direct beneficiary of the Covenant’s land acquisitions. This looks like a clear conflict of interest.”
Pemberton’s face went white. He opened his mouth to protest, but no words came out.
“Furthermore,” Mark added, pulling out another document, “this deed for Mrs. Hensley’s property was notarized by Mr. Pemberton at the exact time he was logged at a county office fifty miles away.”
Sheriff Carver’s eyes snapped to Pemberton. “Is that true, Mr. Pemberton?”
Pemberton stammered, his facade crumbling. “It was… an administrative oversight. A clerical error.”
The Sheriff shook his head, his jaw tight. He looked at Miriam, then back at me, then at the conflicting legal documentation spread across his hands.
“I cannot enforce this eviction,” Sheriff Carver declared, his voice firm. “Not with these allegations of fraud and clear conflicts of interest. Notary public services are a public trust, Mr. Pemberton, and if you’ve violated that, this entire lien could be void.”
He handed the papers back to Mark, then turned to Pemberton and Miriam. “All parties are to remain in place. This is now a matter for a circuit court judge to review. I’ll be submitting my report, along with these records, to the district attorney.”
Pemberton looked stunned, his earlier confidence completely gone. Miriam’s face was a mask of simmering rage.
Sheriff Carver turned to me, a hint of respect in his eyes. “Mrs. Hensley, you and your property are protected until a judge makes a ruling.”
The relief that washed over me was profound, but fleeting. They had been stopped, for now. But I knew this was far from over. Miriam and Pemberton were cornered animals. And cornered animals were the most dangerous kind.
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