Chapter 5 - THE MAN WITH THE STAMP
His name was Raymond Pike.
The same name listed on the suspicious notarized document.
He operated a tiny document service out of an office above a pawnshop fifteen minutes outside Nashville.
When police contacted him, he insisted he had done nothing wrong.
Then they showed him the signature.
According to Detective Maria Alvarez, his confidence disappeared quickly.
“He says your mother brought the paperwork.”
“Did he see me sign it?”
“No.”
“Then why did he notarize it?”
Alvarez gave me a look.
“That’s part of the investigation.”
I understood.
Money.
Favor.
Fear.
Maybe all three.
“What documents does he have?”
“That’s the interesting part.”
She opened a folder.
“Mr. Pike claims Teresa brought multiple drafts.”
“Drafts of what?”
“Property transfers. Financial authority forms. A personal guarantee.”
I frowned.
“A guarantee for what?”
“A loan.”
“How much?”
“Four hundred thousand dollars.”
I stared at her.
“Against my house?”
“Potentially.”
My ears rang.
Amy squeezed my hand.
The detective continued.
“The loan was never finalized.”
“Why not?”
“Because the lender requested direct verification from you.”
A laugh escaped me.
Not because anything was funny.
Because one phone call had apparently saved my family’s home.
“What did Teresa tell them?”
“That you were unavailable overseas.”
“I was in Kentucky.”
“I know.”
Amy whispered, “Why would she need four hundred thousand dollars?”
Alvarez slid another paper across the table.
“Your mother’s debt may be larger than your brother knows.”
The total was close to five hundred thousand.
Credit cards.
Loans.
A failed investment.
Money owed to two private lenders.
And one debt tied to Mason.
My cousin had borrowed heavily to open a sports bar.
It failed within a year.
Teresa guaranteed part of the loan.
So did Betsy.
Suddenly the conspiracy had a shape.
They weren’t trying to become rich.
They were trying to stop themselves from drowning.
And they had decided to use my family as the life raft.
“What happens now?” I asked.
“We continue gathering evidence.”
“And Teresa?”
“She’s been released pending further proceedings.”
Amy stiffened.
“She’s out?”
“Yes.”
I felt her hand go cold in mine.
That afternoon, we returned home for the first time.
The birthday decorations were still hanging.
A giant silver ONE balloon floated near the ceiling.
The seafood had spoiled.
Cups covered the tables.
There was dried coffee on the counter Amy had been forced to clean.
I walked into the kitchen.
Amy stopped in the doorway.
“I can’t do this.”
I turned.
She wasn’t crying.
That somehow made it worse.
“This doesn’t feel like my home anymore.”
I walked back to her.
“It is.”
“She had people everywhere.”
“I know.”
“She was in our bedroom, Connor.”
“I know.”
“She photographed me when I was sick. She took my card. She made me believe you thought I was useless.”
Her voice broke.
“What if I had believed her one more month?”
I didn’t have an answer.
So I wrapped my arms around her.
“I should have seen it.”
Amy pulled back.
“She made sure you didn’t.”
That didn’t make me feel better.
We spent the evening changing locks.
At 9:17 p.m., the doorbell camera sent an alert.
Someone stood on the porch.
My mother.
Alone.
No makeup.
No fancy dress.
No relatives.
She looked older than she had two days earlier.
Amy whispered, “Don’t open it.”
I didn’t.
Teresa stared directly into the camera.
Then she raised an envelope.
“I know you’re watching, Connor.”
I said nothing.
She smiled.
“If you think that deed was the worst thing I did, you still don’t understand anything.”
Then she slid the envelope under our front door.
Inside was a single photograph.
It showed Amy entering a motel.
May you like
Holding Frederick.
And walking beside a man I had never seen before.
