Chapter 5 - MY NAME ON A CRIME
The signature looked almost perfect.
That was the worst part.
Whoever forged it knew how I signed my name.
The long H.
The small loop in the C.
Even the stupid little upward curve I had used since high school.
Ruiz stared at the loan papers.
“Who has access to examples of your signature?”
“My parents.”
“Your sister?”
“Probably.”
Jasmine folded her arms.
“So somebody stole Hannah’s inheritance, hid the deed from her, and then borrowed almost three hundred thousand dollars against her property.”
I swallowed.
“Apparently.”
Ruiz asked, “Where did the loan proceeds go?”
I turned the page.
Silver Pine Holdings.
Of course.
By noon, we were sitting across from Martin Dale, Grandma’s former attorney.
He was seventy-three, thin, and visibly furious before I finished explaining.
“I warned your father,” he said.
“About what?”
“Your grandmother changed the structure of her estate six months before she died. She no longer trusted Robert.”
“Why didn't you contact me?”
“I did.”
I stared at him.
“No, you didn't.”
“I sent three certified letters.”
“To where?”
He gave me an address.
My parents’ house.
I felt sick.
“I lived there then.”
Martin nodded slowly.
“Your father signed for each one.”
Of course he did.
Grandma had left me the building.
She had left both daughters money.
Dad intercepted the notices.
Then, acting as executor, he transferred the money into his company.
“Why wasn't this caught?” I asked.
Martin looked ashamed.
“Your grandmother died during a period when I was undergoing cancer treatment. Another attorney temporarily managed portions of the estate. By the time I returned, your father represented that all beneficiaries had received distributions.”
“He lied.”
“Yes.”
“Did you believe him?”
“At the time, unfortunately, I did.”
I wanted to scream.
Instead, I asked the question that mattered.
“What is Silver Pine?”
Martin leaned back.
“Originally? A legitimate construction investment company.”
“Originally?”
“Your father started it around twelve years ago. Small property flips. Renovations. Rentals. He made money for a while.”
“And then?”
“Then he discovered leverage.”
Jasmine frowned.
“Debt.”
“Lots of it.”
Martin pulled up county records.
Silver Pine had borrowed against properties repeatedly.
Three projects failed.
Two investors sued.
One bank obtained a judgment.
My father was drowning.
“So he stole Grandma’s money.”
Martin nodded.
“And then forged my signature to borrow against my building.”
“It appears that way.”
“Why force me to sell the bakery?”
Martin looked at the developer offer I showed him.
“If you accepted $320,000, your father may have intended to intercept the proceeds before the title problem surfaced.”
My phone buzzed.
Unknown number.
I answered.
“Hannah?”
It was Mom.
Her voice sounded small.
“Where are you?”
I looked at Ruiz.
“Why?”
“Your father is gone.”
“What do you mean gone?”
“He took the truck.”
“So?”
“He emptied our checking account.”
I stood.
Mom started crying.
“And he took my passport.”
That was surprising.
But her next sentence was worse.
“Hannah, there’s something I need to tell you before he finds you.”
“Finds me?”
She inhaled shakily.
“The loan against the bakery wasn't the biggest loan.”
My hand tightened around the phone.
“How much did he borrow?”
“Not against the bakery.”
“Then against what?”
May you like
Mom whispered.
“Against your life insurance.”
