Chapter 6 - The Woman Who Wrote the Papers
Rebecca Vale had an office in a renovated brick building near downtown Indianapolis.
Her website showed a smiling woman standing in front of a bookshelf.
Family law.
Estate planning.
Guardianship matters.
The photograph made her look dependable.
That bothered me more than it should have.
By Friday afternoon, Naomi had helped Abby begin the paperwork for emergency protection.
The hospital had documented her injuries.
Detective Vega had requested relevant financial records through appropriate legal channels.
And Meridian had placed additional restrictions on the trust account while its fraud team investigated.
I hadn't slept more than ninety minutes.
Neither had Earl.
At 2:40, Naomi walked into the hospital waiting room carrying a folder.
"I have some information about Rebecca Vale."
I sat up.
"Tell me."
"She is a licensed attorney."
"I assumed."
"She has handled guardianship cases."
"Recently?"
"Yes."
Naomi sat opposite me.
"And she has represented Glenda Keene before."
My pulse quickened.
"When?"
"About four years ago."
"For what?"
"A property dispute involving Glenda's late sister."
I frowned.
"That doesn't sound unusual."
"Not necessarily."
Naomi nodded.
"But I want you to know the connection exists."
I appreciated her caution.
It was the opposite of how Travis and Glenda operated.
They turned suspicion into certainty whenever it benefited them.
Naomi insisted on evidence.
"Has Rebecca been contacted?"
I asked.
"Detective Vega is handling that."
"And?"
"Rebecca has retained counsel."
I sat back.
"Of course she has."
Naomi opened another page.
"There's something else."
"What?"
"Abby asked me to examine the documents you brought from her apartment."
I looked at her.
"She did?"
Naomi smiled faintly.
"She's making decisions."
That sentence warmed me.
"Good."
"One of the forms appears to be a draft durable power of attorney."
"For Abby?"
"Yes."
"Naming whom?"
"Travis."
I clenched my jaw.
Naomi continued.
"There's also a proposed guardianship petition."
"Naming Glenda."
"Correct."
"And the baby?"
"There's language about prospective caregiving arrangements, but nothing there gives Glenda automatic rights."
I nodded.
Then Naomi pointed to a date.
"Look at this."
August 14.
"What about it?"
"This document is dated August fourteenth."
"That's when Abby stopped answering most of my calls."
"Exactly."
She turned another page.
"The first trust withdrawal request was submitted six days later."
I stared at the dates.
"You're saying the paperwork came first."
"I'm saying the timing matters."
I thought about Abby's voice in August.
Tired.
Flat.
Always saying she was fine.
And Travis repeating the same words.
She's asleep, Colonel.
The phrase had become a wall.
And behind it, documents were moving.
Money was moving.
My daughter was becoming less and less visible.
I looked at Naomi.
"How does a person build a case to control another adult?"
She considered the question.
"By presenting evidence that the adult can't manage their own affairs."
"Medical evidence?"
"Often."
"Financial records?"
"Sometimes."
"Witness statements?"
"Yes."
I looked toward Abby's room.
"Two witnesses who live in the same apartment."
Naomi didn't answer.
I didn't need her to.
There was a knock.
Detective Vega entered.
She looked tired.
But her eyes were sharp.
"Colonel, can we speak?"
I stood.
Naomi rose too.
Vega shook her head.
"She can stay."
We sat.
The detective opened her notebook.
"Travis has changed his account."
I stared at her.
"How?"
"He now admits there were physical altercations."
My stomach tightened.
"With Abby?"
"Yes."
"What does he call them?"
"Arguments that got out of hand."
I looked at the floor.
"Of course."
"He claims she struck him first."
I laughed bitterly.
"My pregnant daughter."
"That's his statement."
"And Glenda?"
"She says she witnessed one confrontation."
"Which one?"
"The most recent."
I looked up.
"What did she say?"
Vega checked her notes.
"She claims Abby became upset over a financial dispute."
"Financial?"
"Yes."
"And then?"
"Glenda says Travis restrained Abby to prevent her from hurting herself."
I closed my eyes.
There it was again.
The same story.
Abby was unstable.
Abby was dangerous.
Abby needed to be controlled.
Vega continued.
"We've asked Travis to provide evidence supporting his claims."
"Did he?"
"He supplied photographs."
I stared at her.
"Of what?"
"Scratches on his forearm."
I felt anger rise.
Then I remembered Abby grabbing her blanket.
The terror in her eyes.
"Could be from Abby trying to defend herself."
"That's one possibility."
The detective nodded.
"We'll evaluate the evidence."
She turned a page.
"There's another reason I came."
I leaned forward.
"We've identified a financial link between Travis and Rebecca."
"How much?"
"At least eleven thousand dollars in payments."
"Legal fees?"
"That's how they're labeled."
"From the thirty-eight thousand?"
"The timing suggests some of the money may have come from that account."
I leaned back.
"Eleven thousand dollars."
Naomi looked thoughtful.
"That's a substantial amount for drafting papers that may never have been filed."
Vega nodded.
"Exactly."
I looked from one woman to the other.
"What aren't you telling me?"
The detective closed her notebook.
"We're still verifying the transaction history."
I waited.
"Colonel, your son-in-law appears to have significant debts."
"How significant?"
"Over one hundred thousand dollars, based on records we've obtained so far."
I stared at her.
"To whom?"
"Several lenders."
"And?"
"One private creditor."
My stomach tightened.
"Who?"
"We're working on that."
She hesitated.
"And we found evidence that Glenda may have been using your daughter's identity to apply for credit."
I sat perfectly still.
"How many applications?"
"At least three."
I looked toward the hallway.
My daughter had been trapped in that apartment.
Pregnant.
Injured.
Terrified.
While her husband and his mother used her name like a checkbook.
Then Naomi asked the question that had been forming in my mind.
"What happened when the trust company refused the larger distribution?"
Vega looked at her.
"We believe the pressure on Abby increased."
I closed my eyes.
August.
September.
October.
The bruises in different stages of healing.
The missed appointments.
The pills.
The blanket.
The handprint.
None of it felt random anymore.
Then Vega's phone vibrated.
She read the message.
Her jaw tightened.
"What?" I asked.
She looked up.
"We found Rebecca Vale's correspondence with Travis."
I leaned forward.
"And?"
"One email was sent three days before your visit."
"What did it say?"
Vega hesitated.
I didn't move.
Then she read a single sentence.
"'The mother's continued involvement is the only serious obstacle.'"
I stared at her.
My involvement.
Not a threat to Abby.
Not a threat to her child.
A threat to their plan.
Vega put the phone away.
"Colonel, I need to ask something."
"Anything."
"Has anyone threatened you recently?"
I shook my head.
"Not directly."
"Any unusual visitors?"
"No."
"Missing documents?"
I thought about the old tablet.
The forged signature.
The photograph of Rob.
Then I remembered my office.
Two weeks earlier, someone had mailed a package to the post headquarters addressed to me.
No return address.
Inside was a picture frame.
A photograph of Abby and Travis from their wedding.
I had assumed it was a gift from my daughter.
But there had been a note taped to the back.
She has her own family now.
I hadn't thought much of it.
Until that moment.
I told Vega.
She watched me carefully.
"Do you still have it?"
"Yes."
"Where?"
"At my quarters."
"Don't handle it again until we discuss preservation."
I nodded.
Then she said, "Colonel, I think someone has been trying to push you out of your daughter's life for longer than two months."
Before I could answer, my phone vibrated.
A new message.
From an unknown number.
Just five words.
You should have stayed away.
Below them was a photograph.
May you like
My house in Kentucky.
Taken that morning.
