Chapter 11 - The Signature That Could Steal Everything
Morgan stared at the forged signature.
Her name curved across the page exactly as she wrote it.
The same capital M.
The same small hook beneath the final t.
For one horrible moment, she wondered whether she'd signed something without remembering.
Then she saw the date.
October 2.
She remembered that day.
She'd been at work until nine that evening, helping her company close its quarterly accounts.
Julian had called three times asking when she'd be home.
When she'd finally arrived, he'd been unusually affectionate.
He'd made pasta.
Poured wine.
Asked her to look at some paperwork for an investment account.
She'd refused.
He'd gotten angry.
Now Morgan understood why.
The papers had already been prepared.
Peter studied the document.
"This appears to be a draft petition, not a court order."
Morgan looked at him.
"Does that matter?"
"Very much."
"Can he take control of my property with this?"
"Not merely by filing it."
Peter turned the pages.
"He would need a court to approve a guardianship, and you would have rights to notice, counsel, and a hearing."
Morgan exhaled shakily.
"But he could still try."
"Yes."
"And forged supporting documents could be used to deceive people."
"Exactly."
Denise folded her arms.
"So the necklace was supposed to make Morgan seem sick?"
April nodded.
"That was Clara's fear."
Morgan looked at Evelyn.
"Like Rachel."
Evelyn lowered her eyes.
"Yes."
Peter picked up the phone.
"I'm contacting a colleague who handles contested guardianship cases."
Morgan stood.
"No."
Everyone looked at her.
"I want the police."
"We can contact both," Peter said.
"I want to give them all of this."
"And we should."
Morgan looked at the evidence.
"Why didn't Grandma turn it over?"
April's expression darkened.
"She tried."
Morgan frowned.
"What happened?"
"She gave copies to a man who said he could arrange a confidential meeting with investigators."
"Who?"
"Samuel Whitcomb's former attorney."
Peter slowly lowered his phone.
"What's his name?"
April hesitated.
"Daniel Keene."
Peter stared at her.
"Keene?"
"Yes."
"Daniel Keene represents Julian Bennett."
Morgan felt the floor disappear beneath her.
Of course.
Another person she'd thought might be outside the conspiracy was connected to it.
Peter rubbed his forehead.
"We need to make copies and preserve the originals."
"Then we need to contact investigators who aren't connected to any of these companies."
He arranged a meeting with local authorities and requested that the relevant records be shared with Chicago detectives.
Morgan also spoke with an attorney who represented people contesting guardianship petitions.
By evening, the evidence had been copied, documented, and placed in professional custody.
But the original storage device remained with Peter under a signed receipt.
Morgan felt a small amount of relief.
For the first time, somebody besides her knew the truth.
Then her phone rang.
Unknown number.
She almost ignored it.
But something made her answer.
"Hello?"
A man's voice spoke.
"Morgan Bennett?"
"Who's calling?"
"My name is Christopher Mercer."
Morgan stopped breathing.
Across the room, Evelyn looked up.
Morgan stared at her.
"That's impossible."
The man gave a quiet laugh.
"People keep saying that."
Morgan's hand trembled.
"Christopher Mercer?"
"Yes."
"Rachel's husband?"
Evelyn stood.
"Who is it?"
Morgan couldn't answer.
Christopher continued.
"I understand you've been spending time with my former mother-in-law."
Morgan looked at Evelyn.
"You're supposed to be missing."
"Missing isn't the same as dead."
Morgan's skin went cold.
"What do you want?"
"To save you."
She nearly laughed.
"From what?"
"From making the same mistake Rachel made."
Morgan gripped the phone.
"Rachel died."
"I know."
His voice changed.
"And despite what Evelyn believes, I didn't kill her."
Morgan stared at the wall.
"Then who did?"
Christopher was silent for several seconds.
When he spoke again, his voice was barely above a whisper.
"Ask Julian why he visited Rachel's house the night before she died."
Morgan froze.
"What?"
"Ask him what he took from her bedside table."
Morgan heard a faint sound in the background.
A car door.
Footsteps.
Then Christopher added, "Your grandmother found the connection."
"What connection?"
"Between Rachel's death and the money Whitcomb wanted."
Morgan swallowed.
"Where are you?"
"Closer than you think."
"Why are you calling me?"
"Because Adrian is going to tell you a story."
"And if you believe him, you'll end up just like Rachel."
The line went dead.
Morgan slowly lowered the phone.
Evelyn was staring at her.
"Was that Christopher?"
Morgan nodded.
The old woman's knees nearly buckled.
Peter helped her sit.
Then Morgan's phone vibrated again.
A text message.
One photograph.
It showed the front porch of Grandma Clara's cottage.
Taken at night.
A man stood beside the door.
Julian.
In his hand was a metal gas can.
May you like
Beneath the photograph was a message.
You have until midnight to decide what matters more. Your grandmother's house, or the people inside it.
