Chapter 9 - THE PROPERTY THEY DIDN’T KNOW I OWNED
The phrase TRANSFER PROPERTY made no sense at first.
Then Rebecca asked one question.
“What property besides the house and cottage does Andrew know about?”
I thought.
Then froze.
“My grandmother’s cabin.”
“Worth?”
“Maybe three hundred thousand.”
“Any land?”
“Twenty-eight acres.”
Rebecca leaned forward.
“Did Andrew know you inherited it separately?”
“Yes.”
“Did he know it was held through the trust?”
“I think so.”
We pulled the trust records.
That’s when Rebecca found something even I had overlooked.
My grandmother had structured the cabin differently.
The property could not automatically become marital property.
Andrew had no ownership interest.
No matter how long we stayed married.
Even if I died, the transfer provisions depended on the original amendment.
The amendment that had disappeared from my green folder.
Rebecca’s expression hardened.
“They wanted that page.”
“Why?”
“Because if they thought destroying the original would change the trust, they’re idiots.”
She almost smiled.
“Your grandmother’s attorney filed a certified copy.”
For the first time in days, I felt something close to relief.
Andrew and Lorraine had stolen paper.
Not ownership.
That relief lasted two hours.
At 5:30, I received an alert from the cottage security system.
Motion detected.
I opened the camera feed.
Andrew was there.
Lorraine beside him.
They had no legal restriction preventing access to the jointly titled cottage yet.
But they weren’t carrying luggage.
Andrew carried a metal box.
Lorraine carried papers.
They entered the detached garage.
I called Reyes.
“What are they doing?”
“Do not go there.”
“I’m asking what they’re doing.”
“We’ll send someone.”
I watched the feed.
Andrew opened the metal box.
Lorraine fed papers into a portable fire pit.
My heart hammered.
“They’re burning documents.”
Reyes immediately dispatched deputies.
I recorded the screen.
Andrew burned one stack.
Then another.
Lorraine looked nervous.
She pointed toward the road.
Andrew grabbed the remaining papers.
A siren sounded faintly.
They panicked.
Lorraine dropped something.
A folder slid across the garage floor.
Green.
My folder.
Or part of it.
Andrew grabbed Lorraine’s arm and pulled her toward the car.
Deputies arrived before they reached the road.
I watched from my phone as Andrew argued.
Lorraine screamed.
An officer moved between them.
Then another deputy walked into the garage.
He picked up the green folder.
Opened it.
And found something neither Andrew nor Lorraine had managed to burn.
A handwritten note.
Written by Lorraine.
Detective Reyes called me an hour later.
“Claire.”
“What did she write?”
Reyes inhaled slowly.
“It says, ‘Once she signs, Andrew gets the house. If she refuses, use Plan B.’”
My skin prickled.
“What is Plan B?”
“We don’t know yet.”
Then Reyes said,
“But we found another word underneath.”
May you like
“What?”
“Hospital.”
