Chapter 4 - The Drive Up
I called Jason back immediately.
He didn’t answer.
I called again.
Voicemail.
Michael closed the laptop. “We need an attorney and the sheriff.”
“My son may be driving through a snowstorm with a woman who forged my signature.”
“Then call him again.”
I did.
On the fifth attempt, Jason picked up.
Sarah was shouting in the background.
“Mom, I can’t talk.”
“Pull over.”
“What?”
“Pull the car over and get away from Sarah.”
The line crackled.
“Mom, what’s going on?”
“The deed is forged.”
Sarah’s voice grew louder. “Give me the phone.”
“Jason, listen to me. A document was filed transferring half my cabin to you and Sarah.”
“What document?”
“A quitclaim deed with my name on it.”
The line went silent except for the sound of tires on wet pavement.
Then Jason said, “I never signed anything.”
“Your signature is on it.”
Sarah shouted, “She’s lying!”
A struggle followed.
The call disconnected.
I stood there staring at the phone.
Michael was already dialing Sheriff Dalton.
Twenty minutes later, the sheriff called Jason’s number. No answer.
The storm worsened. Snow swept sideways across the windows, erasing the driveway.
At nine fifteen, headlights appeared through the trees.
Jason’s SUV stopped crookedly near the porch.
He stepped out alone.
I ran to the door.
“Where’s Sarah?”
He entered with snow in his hair and blood on his lower lip.
“She got out at the gas station.”
“What happened to your mouth?”
“She hit me with her phone when I asked about the deed.”
My son was thirty-eight years old. I had not seen him look that lost since his father’s funeral.
Michael showed him the document.
Jason studied the signatures.
“That looks like mine,” he said.
“Did you sign it?”
“No.”
He rubbed his face.
“Three weeks ago, Sarah asked me to sign some refinancing papers for our house. She covered half the pages with sticky notes and showed me where to sign.”
Michael leaned forward. “Did you read them?”
Jason looked ashamed. “Not carefully.”
His signature might be genuine.
Mine was not.
“Why would she do this?” I asked.
Jason sank into a chair.
“Because we’re broke.”
The words landed heavily.
He told us Sarah had lost nearly eighty thousand dollars through online sports betting and high-risk investments. She had hidden credit cards, borrowed against their home, and taken money from the account Robert left Jason.
“How much do you owe?” I asked.
“Almost two hundred thousand.”
I gripped the table.
Jason looked at the silver package beneath the tree.
“I think I know what’s inside.”
Before he could reach it, someone pounded on the front door.
Sarah stood outside in the storm.
May you like
Brenda was beside her.
And behind them, Sheriff Dalton’s patrol lights flashed through the snow.
