Chapter 8 - MOM’S SIGNATURE
Mom went pale when I told her.
“What did I sign?”
“I don’t know.”
She began rubbing her hands together.
It was something she did when anxious.
“I signed papers for Derek.”
“What papers?”
“He said they were for Medicare.”
Samuel leaned forward.
“Did he ever take you to a bank?”
Mom thought.
“Yes.”
“When?”
“Last winter.”
“Who was there?”
“A woman.”
“What woman?”
“I don’t remember her name.”
“Did she notarize anything?”
Mom closed her eyes.
“I think so.”
Samuel exhaled.
“That may be what Kane is referring to.”
At four, Samuel and I went to Kane Capital.
Mom stayed with Mrs. Patterson.
Victor Kane was in his late fifties, expensive suit, perfect silver hair, the relaxed manner of a man who made money from desperate people.
He shook Samuel’s hand.
Then mine.
“Ms. Miller.”
I didn’t take his hand.
“Show me the document.”
He smiled.
“Straight to business.”
“Yes.”
He placed a folder on the desk.
Inside was a notarized affidavit signed by Mom.
It stated that Derek had managed the property for years.
That I had permanently relocated abroad.
And that Mom believed I intended Derek to inherit and control the house.
Not a transfer of ownership.
But enough supporting language to make Derek’s forged deed look less suspicious to an careless lender.
I looked at Mom’s signature.
That one was real.
“What did Derek tell your office?”
Kane leaned back.
“That he and his sister had an informal agreement.”
“Did you contact me?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“The recorded deed listed Westbridge as owner.”
“You accepted a deed transferring a nine-hundred-thousand-dollar property without verifying the identity of the person giving it away?”
His smile faded.
“Be careful.”
Samuel spoke.
“My client is asking a reasonable question.”
Kane looked at him.
“We followed procedure.”
“Then you won’t object to producing your verification records.”
Kane’s eyes hardened.
“You came here to negotiate.”
“No,” I said.
“I came here to see how deep your mistake goes.”
He leaned forward.
“Your brother owes us one hundred eighty thousand dollars plus interest.”
“That’s his problem.”
“The house secured the loan.”
“Fraudulently.”
“That will be for a court to decide.”
Samuel slid a document toward him.
“Temporary restraining order request will be filed before close of business.”
Kane barely glanced at it.
“You may slow the sale.”
“Good.”
“You won’t stop the debt.”
I stood.
“Again, not my debt.”
Then Kane said something that stopped me.
“Your mother received twenty-five thousand dollars.”
I turned.
“What?”
“According to your brother.”
“That’s a lie.”
“We have a withdrawal receipt.”
He slid over a copy.
Mom’s bank account.
$25,000 withdrawal.
Her signature.
The money had been taken ten months earlier.
I stared at it.
“She never received this.”
Kane shrugged.
“Not my concern.”
“It will be.”
I took a photo.
Then Samuel and I left.
Back at the house, Mom looked at the receipt.
“I didn’t take that money.”
“You signed this?”
She stared.
“I…”
Her face twisted in confusion.
“I signed something at the bank.”
“What happened afterward?”
“Derek drove me home.”
“Did he give you cash?”
“No.”
“Did you see the money?”
“No.”
Samuel called the bank immediately.
They refused to discuss details by phone.
We arranged a meeting for the next morning.
That night, I went through Derek’s old office.
Behind a filing cabinet, I found a locked metal box.
I forced it open.
Inside were copies of Mom’s ID.
Her Social Security card.
Old checks.
A rubber signature stamp.
And a small flash drive.
I plugged it into my laptop.
Folders appeared.
BANK.
HOUSE.
RACHEL.
I opened the folder with my name.
There were scans of my passport.
Copies of old signatures.
Even photographs from documents I had mailed Mom years ago.
They had been practicing.
Then I opened a file labeled FINAL PLAN.
It contained one sentence.
“When Rachel returns, Mom confirms the transfer was voluntary.”
My stomach turned.
They had expected me to come home eventually.
And they had planned to make Mom lie.
Then I heard a floorboard creak behind me.
I turned.
Melissa was standing in the doorway.
May you like
She wasn’t supposed to be in the house.
And in her hand was a hammer.
