Chapter 3 - THE FOLDER
“Mason.”
He looked at me.
“Take your hand out of your jacket.”
“Relax, man.”
“What are you carrying?”
“Nothing.”
My mother stepped between us.
“This is ridiculous.”
“Move.”
“Connor.”
“Move, Mom.”
She didn’t.
So I stepped around her.
Mason backed away.
Then Amy came outside holding Frederick.
His face was flushed.
I saw my mother roll her eyes.
That did it.
I pulled out my phone.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
“Calling the police.”
The backyard erupted.
Betsy started yelling.
My uncle Dean swore.
Someone shouted, “Over a family argument?”
I ignored them.
My mother grabbed my wrist.
“Put that phone down.”
“Take your hand off me.”
“You are not calling the police on your own mother.”
“I’m calling because twenty people are refusing to leave my property.”
“This is family property!”
“No, it isn’t.”
Her expression changed again.
There it was.
That strange confidence.
The 911 operator answered.
I gave the address.
My mother started screaming loudly enough for the dispatcher to hear.
I explained that my relatives were refusing to leave, that my wife’s keys had been taken, and that I believed documents had been removed from my home.
Mason’s face went white.
That was all I needed to see.
I pointed at him.
“Don’t leave.”
He ran.
Straight for the side gate.
My brother-in-law Caleb stepped in front of him.
Mason shoved him.
The folder fell halfway out of his jacket.
I saw a blue tab.
A county seal.
My name.
“Mason!”
He grabbed the folder and ran.
Then police sirens sounded outside.
He froze.
Two officers came through the side gate.
One blocked Mason.
The other walked toward my mother.
“What seems to be the problem?”
My mother lifted her chin.
“There is no problem. This is a private family celebration.”
“Sir?”
I told them everything.
My mother interrupted every ten seconds.
“He’s confused.”
“He’s tired.”
“His wife manipulates him.”
One officer finally said, “Ma’am, please let him finish.”
She exploded.
“Do not tell me what to do in my own house.”
The officer glanced at me.
“Is this your residence?”
“Yes.”
He looked at Teresa.
“Ma’am, do you live here?”
“No,” she snapped. “But that doesn’t matter.”
“It matters legally.”
She stepped closer.
“You people don’t understand how families work.”
“Ma’am, step back.”
She shoved him.
Everyone stopped breathing.
He turned her around, cuffed her, and told her she was under arrest.
My mother screamed.
Amy flinched.
Mason tried the gate again.
The second officer caught him.
“What’s in the folder?”
“Personal documents.”
“Whose?”
“Mine.”
The officer opened it.
His eyes narrowed.
He pulled out the first paper.
A property deed.
My property deed.
The original.
Then another document.
A power of attorney.
My name was printed on it.
So was my signature.
Except I had never signed it.
My stomach dropped.
The officer looked up.
“Mr. Bradley… did you authorize this?”
“No.”
He flipped to the next page.
Then his expression became serious.
“Sir, there’s more.”
“What?”
He held up a document.
It was an application for a home-equity loan.
For $180,000.
May you like
And according to the paper…
I had already approved it.
