Chapter 6 - THE SIGNATURE

I stared at the message until the screen went dark.

Bring your passport.

Rachel didn't like it.

"Do not hand her an original identity document," she said.

"I wasn't planning to."

"Good. Because if she has a signature sample and personal data, she may be trying to authenticate something."

I thought about my desk drawers. Tax records. Old contracts. Copies of my driver's license. The kind of paperwork married people stop thinking of as private.

I drove home at 5:30.

Vanessa was dressed for a date.

Red dress. Hair down. Diamond bracelet sparkling on her wrist.

Mom was nowhere in sight.

"Where's Mom?"

"Upstairs. Resting."

I climbed three steps.

"Daniel." Vanessa's voice turned sharp. "I said she's resting."

I looked back at her.

She corrected herself instantly.

"I just mean... we never get time alone."

I went upstairs anyway.

Mom's door was closed.

Unlocked this time.

She was sitting on the bed with a packed overnight bag.

"Rachel arranged a safe place," I whispered. "A friend of hers. Just for tonight."

Mom nodded.

"I'm scared."

"I know."

"For you."

I almost laughed, but her face stopped me.

"Why?"

She reached into her pillowcase and pulled out a folded sheet of paper.

"I found this in the trash two weeks ago. I kept it because your name was on it."

It was a photocopy of a notarized affidavit.

My name was typed at the bottom.

Daniel Mercer.

And underneath it was a signature that looked almost exactly like mine.

The affidavit claimed I had authorized Vanessa to "manage and dispose of certain domestic assets" while I was incapacitated abroad.

"This is fake," I said.

Mom nodded. "I knew it was."

Downstairs, glass shattered.

Mom jumped.

I slipped the paper inside my jacket.

"Stay here."

Vanessa stood in the kitchen staring at a broken wineglass.

"Slipped," she said.

Trent was standing beside the back door.

He wasn't supposed to be there.

"Hey, spreadsheet guy," he said.

I looked at him.

"Vanessa said we were having dinner alone."

"Plans change."

He smiled, but his eyes were flat.

Then he reached behind him and turned the deadbolt.

Click.

Vanessa poured herself another glass of wine.

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"Sit down, Daniel," she said.

"We really do need to talk about your future."