Chapter 7 - The Woman Who Signed My Name
Michael’s contact at the county clerk’s office had found two more filings.
One involved my lakeside parcel.
The other involved the house where I lived full-time.
Both documents had been submitted but not yet recorded.
Both carried my forged signature.
Sarah had tried to take everything.
Sheriff Dalton arranged for a deputy to remain at the cabin while we drove to the station.
There, Sarah refused to answer questions without an attorney.
Brenda did not.
She blamed Sarah.
Then Jason.
Then me.
“You hoard property while young families struggle,” she told the detective. “You could have helped them.”
“I paid the down payment on their house.”
“That was eight years ago.”
“I also gave Jason the life-insurance money Robert left him.”
Brenda’s mouth tightened.
Sarah had gambled away part of that money too.
Melissa Grant, the notary named on the deed, was brought in shortly after midnight.
She was forty, pale, and trembling.
At first, she insisted I had appeared before her.
Then the detective showed her security footage from the bank.
I had not entered the building that day.
Sarah had.
Melissa broke down.
Sarah had told her I was too sick to travel. Brenda had posed as me during a video call, keeping the camera dark and speaking only briefly. Melissa notarized the document without properly verifying my identity.
“Why?” I asked.
Melissa wiped her eyes. “Sarah said you were giving them the cabin before your health got worse.”
“She paid you,” the detective said.
Melissa nodded.
“Five thousand dollars.”
Jason left the room and vomited into a trash can.
At three in the morning, we returned to the cabin.
He sat on the sofa with his head in his hands.
“I brought her into this family.”
“You didn’t make her do this.”
“I gave her access.”
“Yes,” I said. “You did.”
He looked at me, surprised by my bluntness.
“I love you, Jason. But I will not protect you from the truth. You ignored things because facing them was uncomfortable.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Sorry is a beginning. It is not a repair.”
I poured Robert’s wine down the sink.
Jason stood quickly. “Mom—”
“That bottle stopped being what I was saving the moment Brenda opened it.”
I watched the red liquid disappear.
“I loved your father. I don’t need spoiled wine to prove it.”
Afterward, I found an old bottle of bourbon and poured two small glasses.
Jason raised his.
“To Dad.”
“To learning before it’s too late.”
We drank in silence.
Then Jason’s phone lit up with a banking alert.
His face went white.
“What is it?”
He turned the screen toward me.
May you like
Someone had just withdrawn forty-eight thousand dollars from the business account he shared with Sarah.
And the transaction had been made from my computer upstairs.
