Chapter 13 - TWENTY-SEVEN SIGNATURES
The detectives had found twenty-seven practice signatures.
Now they knew why.
Andrew had used versions of my signature on three documents.
The loan application.
An investment withdrawal request.
And a change-of-beneficiary form on one small insurance policy.
The last document made Detective Reyes furious.
“Were you aware of this?”
“No.”
The policy was not huge.
$100,000.
But Andrew had tried to change ownership and beneficiary structures without telling me.
Combined with Lorraine’s “hospital” plan, it looked terrible.
His lawyer insisted there had never been any physical plan to harm me.
I believed that.
Mostly.
Andrew wasn’t a killer.
He was something more ordinary.
A selfish man who kept walking toward worse choices because every previous choice had been easier than accepting consequences.
Lorraine was charged separately.
She continued claiming she was protecting her son.
In one interview, she said,
“Claire always controlled him with money.”
The investigator asked,
“How?”
Lorraine replied,
“She earned more.”
That was apparently the crime.
I earned more.
I inherited money.
I owned things.
I said no.
Therefore I was controlling.
By the time mediation arrived, Andrew looked ten years older.
He sat across the table from me.
For months, we had communicated through lawyers.
Now we were in the same room.
He looked at me and whispered,
“Happy birthday.”
I almost laughed.
Four months late.
Rebecca glanced at me.
I remained silent.
Andrew continued.
“I should have said it that morning.”
I answered quietly.
“You should have done a lot of things.”
His eyes filled.
For one second, I saw the man I had loved.
Then I remembered him telling Melissa I would “land on my feet.”
He leaned forward.
“I never wanted you hurt.”
“The pot missed.”
His face tightened.
“I didn’t tell her to throw it.”
“You told her to trigger me.”
Silence.
“You wanted me angry.”
He looked down.
“Yes.”
“So you could call me unstable.”
“Yes.”
“And take control of the house.”
He whispered,
“Yes.”
There it was.
No excuses.
For once.
I asked,
“Why?”
He rubbed his face.
“Debt.”
“What debt?”
His lawyer moved.
Andrew ignored him.
“I had more debt than you knew.”
“How much?”
He swallowed.
“Almost two hundred thousand.”
I stared.
“From what?”
“Trading.”
I felt sick.
He had lost money secretly.
Then tried to steal mine to cover it.
“The affair?”
He shook his head.
“That came later.”
“You told Melissa you loved her.”
“I thought I did.”
“You rented an apartment.”
“I know.”
“You planned to move her into my house.”
He closed his eyes.
“I know.”
I stood.
“I’m done.”
Rebecca gathered our papers.
Then Andrew said,
“Claire, wait.”
I turned.
He looked destroyed.
“My mother has one more thing.”
I froze.
“What?”
He looked toward his lawyer.
His lawyer whispered,
“Don’t.”
Andrew ignored him.
“She took something from your grandmother’s cabin.”
My heart stopped.
“What did she take?”
Andrew whispered,
“A box.”
May you like
“What box?”
“The one hidden under the bedroom floor.”
