Chapter 2 - The Lawyer Who Knew Too Much
Her name was Diane Holloway.
She had handled Dad’s estate.
She had helped me purchase Mom’s house.
She had looked me straight in the eye three years earlier and said, “As long as you retain your ownership interest, nobody can sell or transfer this property without your authorization.”
Now she walked into the house like she belonged there.
“Nora.”
No surprise.
No confusion.
Just my name.
I stared at her.
“You knew I was here.”
Diane put her briefcase on the table.
“Valerie called me.”
“You’re working with them?”
“I’m trying to prevent an already difficult situation from becoming catastrophic.”
Gavin snorted.
“It passed difficult twenty minutes ago.”
I pointed toward the basement.
“My mother is unconscious downstairs.”
Diane’s face barely moved.
“She has a documented medical condition.”
“She has bottles of unlabeled pills beside her bed.”
“Valerie has been acting as her caregiver.”
“She’s been drugging her.”
“That is an allegation.”
I felt something cold settle inside me.
Diane always spoke that way when she wanted emotion removed from a room.
Legal words.
Clean words.
Words that made ugly things sound manageable.
“Why is there a deed transferring my house to Valerie?”
Diane opened the briefcase.
“It wasn’t your house.”
“I wired the down payment.”
“You gifted the funds.”
“I paid every mortgage payment.”
“Voluntarily.”
I laughed once.
It didn’t sound like me.
“You drafted the purchase agreement.”
“Yes.”
“And you told me my interest was protected.”
Diane paused.
“That was my understanding at the time.”
“At the time?”
She slid a folder toward me.
Inside were bank records.
My transfers.
My name.
My Singapore account.
And beside several payments was a notation I had never seen.
FAMILY GIFT.
I looked up.
“These weren’t gifts.”
Diane said nothing.
Valerie did.
“You should read before you sign things.”
“I didn’t sign this.”
“You signed plenty.”
She pushed another page across the table.
A notarized declaration.
It appeared to state that I had provided money to Mom with no expectation of ownership or repayment.
The signature looked like mine.
It wasn’t.
“That’s forged.”
Diane exhaled.
“Nora—”
“It is forged.”
Gavin folded his arms.
“Prove it.”
I looked around the table.
Keisha.
Patrick.
A young couple renting the upstairs bedroom.
All of them stared at me with the same uncomfortable question.
What if Valerie was telling the truth?
That was the genius of it.
They hadn’t just stolen the house.
They had built paperwork around the theft.
Months of it.
Maybe years.
I looked at Diane.
“Who notarized this?”
She didn’t answer quickly enough.
I read the stamp.
MARIA SALAZAR.
Notary Public.
I knew that name too.
Maria had been Diane’s legal assistant.
“Where is Maria?”
Diane closed the folder.
“Not here.”
“Where?”
“Nora, the best thing you can do tonight is leave.”
I laughed.
“My mother is barely conscious downstairs, my signature has been forged, and you think I’m leaving?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Her eyes shifted toward Gavin.
Just for a second.
There it was.
Fear.
Diane Holloway was afraid of him.
I leaned closer.
“What did you get yourself into?”
Gavin stepped forward.
“We’re finished.”
“No,” I said. “We’re starting.”
A weak sound came from the hallway.
Everyone turned.
Mom stood at the basement door.
Barefoot.
Her winter coat hung open over an old nightgown.
She was gripping the doorframe so hard her knuckles had turned white.
“Mom!”
I ran toward her.
Her eyes struggled to focus.
Then she saw Diane.
Her whole body stiffened.
“No,” Mom whispered.
Diane went pale.
Mom pointed one trembling finger across the room.
“Not her.”
I caught Mom before she fell.
“Mom, what happened?”
She grabbed my sleeve.
Her voice was barely sound.
“The box.”
“What box?”
“Your father’s box.”
Valerie moved toward us.
“Mom, you’re confused.”
Mom suddenly screamed.
“DON’T TOUCH ME!”
The room froze.
I held her tighter.
“Where is Dad’s box?”
Mom looked into my eyes.
“Behind the wall.”
Then she whispered four words that made Valerie’s face collapse.
May you like
“Your father recorded everything.”
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