Chapter 6 - The Door He Thought He Owned
"That's not my signature."
Meredith enlarged the document on her laptop.
I leaned closer.
My name appeared at the bottom of the page in black ink.
Sloane A. Merrick.
The letters looked familiar.
Too familiar.
The first letter had the same exaggerated curve I used when signing military correspondence.
The final stroke extended beneath my surname.
But the middle initial bothered me.
I never used it on personal documents.
Not even my mortgage.
"Are you certain?" Meredith asked.
"I don't remember signing this."
"That's different from knowing the signature is forged."
"I understand."
She scrolled upward.
The document authorized Hollis to communicate with designated financial institutions, obtain information regarding specified accounts, and submit certain documents on my behalf.
It included language limiting his authority.
But the account schedule referenced Wren's trust.
I stared at the screen.
"How could he have gotten this notarized?"
"That's one of the questions we're going to ask."
"Who's the notary?"
Meredith pointed.
"Natalie Price."
I read the name.
It meant nothing.
Then I noticed the location.
"Front Range Document Services?"
Meredith nodded.
"Have you ever been there?"
"No."
"Did you meet a woman named Natalie Price around the time you signed those wedding papers?"
I tried to remember.
There had been a woman at the kitchen table one evening.
Late twenties.
Dark hair.
A gray sweater.
Hollis had introduced her as someone from the wedding venue's insurance company.
She'd asked to see my identification.
I felt the blood drain from my face.
"Meredith."
She looked up.
"I remember a woman."
"Tell me."
"Hollis said she was helping with wedding liability insurance. She came to our house."
"When?"
"Twelve days before the wedding."
Meredith looked at the document.
The notarization date matched.
"What did she do?"
"She looked at my license. Hollis put papers in front of me."
"Did she ask you to acknowledge a particular signature?"
"I don't remember."
"Were the papers clearly visible?"
"Some were. I was working on a report while Hollis sorted them."
I rubbed my forehead.
"God, I wasn't paying attention."
Meredith spoke firmly.
"Don't fill in missing memories. Tell me only what you know."
I nodded.
That was a fair instruction.
I could recall the woman sitting at the table.
I could recall my license beside a stack of papers.
I could recall Hollis saying, "This is just insurance housekeeping."
But I couldn't swear which page I'd signed in front of her.
And I knew the difference mattered.
Meredith copied the document reference number.
"We'll request the notary's journal and any related records through the appropriate process."
"Can Hollis use it right now?"
"I've already sent written notice to the financial institutions we identified that the document is disputed and that you revoke any authority you may have granted. We'll verify receipt and follow their procedures."
I stared at the screen.
"What if there's another document?"
"Then we need to identify it."
She paused.
"Sloane, has Hollis ever used your phone while you were asleep?"
I thought about the question.
"Sometimes he charged it for me."
"Did he know your passcode?"
"Yes."
"Email password?"
I hesitated.
"Probably."
Meredith leaned back.
"Change them. Today. And use a device he hasn't had access to."
By evening, I'd changed every password I could remember.
I contacted the banks.
I requested additional verification on financial transactions.
I placed alerts on my credit files and began reviewing account activity.
With Meredith's help, I prepared the necessary paperwork to remove Hollis's access from accounts where he had any legitimate authorization.
The work was exhausting.
Not because it was complicated.
Because each step reminded me how much access I'd given a man I trusted.
At six thirty, the detective assigned to the financial complaint called.
His name was Daniel Mercer.
He'd been referred the matter after Deputy Ruiz documented the disputed power of attorney and related concerns.
"Lieutenant Colonel Merrick, I'd like to arrange an interview."
"Of course."
"And I'd like you to bring any records showing who had access to your daughter's financial information."
"I have them."
"Good."
He paused.
"I also understand you've requested help retrieving personal belongings from the home."
"Yes."
"We can explain what assistance is available if you're concerned about a confrontation. Questions of occupancy and possession will need to be handled through the proper legal process."
"I understand."
"One more thing."
"What?"
"Your former fiancé contacted our office."
My chest tightened.
"What did he say?"
"He claims you made the allegations to avoid financial obligations associated with the canceled wedding."
I nearly dropped the phone.
"Financial obligations?"
"He's alleging you agreed to reimburse him for certain expenses."
I looked at Meredith.
She raised an eyebrow.
I said, "The venue was paid from my account."
"We haven't reached any conclusion regarding his claim," Mercer said. "I just want you to know."
I thanked him and ended the call.
Meredith waited.
"He says I owe him money."
"How much?"
"He didn't say."
She gave a humorless smile.
"Then we'll ask for documentation."
I stood and walked toward the window.
Outside, Wren and Delma were sitting on the back porch.
Wren was carefully arranging flower petals in a line.
She'd asked Delma to save a handful from her basket.
I watched my daughter for a long time.
Then my phone rang again.
An unfamiliar number.
I almost ignored it.
But something made me answer.
"Hello?"
A woman's voice whispered, "Is this Sloane Merrick?"
"Yes."
"My name is Natalie Price."
I turned toward Meredith.
She was already watching me.
"The notary?" I asked.
"Yes."
I put the call on speaker with Natalie's agreement.
She sounded frightened.
"I shouldn't be calling you directly."
"Then why are you?"
"Because I heard what happened at the wedding."
My pulse quickened.
Natalie continued.
"And I know what Mr. Garrity told me to do with those papers."
Meredith immediately spoke.
"Natalie, this is Meredith Sloan, Ms. Merrick's attorney. If you're offering information about a potentially disputed notarization, it would be best to arrange an appropriate recorded statement with investigators. You may also want independent legal advice."
Natalie was silent.
Then she whispered, "I think I made a terrible mistake."
"What happened?" I asked.
"I was told the documents had already been reviewed with you. I was told you understood everything."
I closed my eyes.
"Did you read them to me?"
"No."
"Did I tell you what they were?"
"No."
Her breathing became uneven.
"Mr. Garrity kept answering for you."
I felt my knees weaken.
Meredith pulled out a chair.
"Sit down," she whispered.
I sat.
Natalie continued.
"I thought you were just busy. You were in uniform and working on something at the table. He kept saying you were comfortable with everything."
I remembered that night.
My computer.
The unfinished report.
Hollis bringing me tea.
I remembered how irritated he'd seemed when I reached for the documents.
"Just finish your work, honey," he'd said. "I've got this."
Natalie's voice shook.
"I didn't understand there was a child's trust involved until afterward."
I looked at Meredith.
"Afterward?"
"Mr. Garrity called the next day."
"What did he want?"
"He asked whether I could notarize another document using the same identification record."
Meredith leaned forward.
"Did you?"
"No."
Natalie took a shaky breath.
"I told him you needed to appear again and complete the proper process."
"What happened then?"
"He got angry."
My stomach tightened.
"He said I was being difficult."
I looked at Meredith.
The same word.
Difficult.
The word he'd used for my nine-year-old daughter.
Natalie swallowed.
"Then he told me something I haven't been able to forget."
"What?"
"He said it wouldn't matter after Saturday because he'd be her husband."
I stared at the wall.
Meredith spoke carefully.
"Natalie, please preserve your messages, journal, and records. Detective Mercer can arrange to speak with you."
"Okay."
"And don't alter anything."
"I won't."
After the call ended, neither of us spoke.
Finally, Meredith closed the laptop.
"This is serious."
I nodded.
She looked toward the porch.
"But I want you to focus on something else tonight."
"What?"
"Your daughter."
I followed her gaze.
Wren was laughing at something Delma had said.
It was the first time I'd heard that laugh since the wedding.
I pressed a hand against my chest.
"She's afraid he can come back."
"Then let's make sure she knows the adults are taking the necessary steps to protect her."
I nodded.
At eight, I sat beside Wren on the guest-room bed.
She was wearing pajamas covered in tiny yellow moons.
"Can I ask you something?" I said.
She nodded.
"What would help you feel safer tonight?"
She thought about it.
"Can you leave the door open?"
"Of course."
"And can the light stay on in the hallway?"
"Yes."
She looked at her hands.
"Mommy, does Hollis have a key to Aunt Delma's house?"
"No."
"Does he know where it is?"
"He knows the address, but Aunt Delma and Uncle Thomas are here, and we're taking precautions."
She nodded.
Then her face changed.
"What if he gets madder?"
I moved closer.
"Wren, Hollis's feelings aren't your responsibility."
"But he said—"
"I know what he said."
She looked at me.
"He said you'd be alone forever."
I took her hands.
"Baby, I was alone in a different way when I believed somebody who wasn't kind to you."
She blinked.
I continued.
"We already have a family."
"Me and you?"
"Me and you."
"And Aunt Delma?"
"Absolutely."
"And Uncle Thomas?"
"He'll be offended if we leave him out."
A tiny smile appeared.
"And Colonel Voss?"
"Especially Colonel Voss."
She laughed.
Then she asked quietly, "What about Daddy?"
My throat tightened.
"Always Daddy."
She leaned into me.
We sat that way until her breathing slowed.
At nine thirty, my phone buzzed.
An email from Meredith.
Subject: URGENT - ADDITIONAL DOCUMENT LOCATED
I opened it.
The attachment was a scanned application submitted to a financial institution three days before the wedding.
It requested a change in the authorized contact for Wren's trust records.
Hollis had listed himself.
But the most disturbing part wasn't his name.
It was the address.
He'd directed correspondence to a private mailbox in Denver.
A mailbox I'd never heard of.
And beside my daughter's name, he'd written a date of birth that was wrong by exactly one year.
I stared at it.
Then I realized what bothered me.
Wren's real birthdate appeared on every legitimate estate document Hollis had seen.
He had no reason to get it wrong.
May you like
Unless the mistake wasn't a mistake.
Unless someone had been constructing a second set of records.
