Chapter 2 - The Notary Who Was Already DeadMarcus arrived just before sunrise.
He looked nothing like the intimidating federal investigator I had imagined.
He was in his late fifties, wore a dark raincoat, and carried a battered leather folder that looked older than I was.
He didn't introduce himself to Mom with a handshake.
He simply sat beside her.
“Mrs. Carter,” he said gently, “I’m going to ask you a few questions. You don't have to answer anything you don't remember.”
Mom nodded.
Daniel placed the property record on the table.
Marcus studied it for nearly a minute.
Then he tapped the notary line.
“This is the first problem.”
I leaned forward.
“You said the notary died two years ago.”
Marcus nodded.
“That’s what the state registry says.”
“Could someone else have used his stamp?”
“Yes.”
“Wouldn’t that be forgery?”
“If the signature was forged too.”
Mom suddenly whispered, “It was him.”
We all looked at her.
“Who?”
“The man at the hospital.”
Marcus leaned toward her.
“You recognize this name?”
Mom pointed at the screen.
“Peter.”
Marcus went rigid.
“Peter what?”
“I don’t know.”
“What did he tell you?”
“He said he worked for Evan.”
Marcus exchanged a glance with Daniel.
Then he opened his folder.
Inside were printed photographs.
Old photographs.
One showed a younger Marcus standing outside a federal courthouse.
Another showed a group of men beside a black SUV.
Marcus placed one photo on the table.
“Do you recognize anyone?”
Mom studied it.
Her finger moved slowly.
Then stopped.
“That man.”
I leaned closer.
The photograph showed a man in a gray suit.
Silver watch.
Same description.
Marcus asked softly, “Are you sure?”
Mom nodded.
“He told me my son sent him.”
Daniel's jaw clenched.
“Who is he?”
Marcus didn't answer immediately.
Instead, he said, “His name was Peter Lang.”
“Was?”
Marcus nodded.
“He disappeared eleven years ago.”
My stomach dropped.
“Disappeared?”
“He was connected to a network that targeted vulnerable property owners.”
Daniel's voice became quiet.
“You told me that network was dismantled.”
“It was.”
“So how is Peter involved?”
Marcus looked at him.
“Because Peter was never the boss.”
“Who was?”
Marcus closed the folder.
“We never proved it.”
The room became silent.
Then my phone vibrated.
A text from Evan.
Stop digging.
I showed it to Daniel.
Marcus looked at the timestamp.
“Send me a screenshot.”
“Why?”
“Because people who believe they're innocent don't usually send warnings.”
Daniel nodded.
Then Marcus asked me something unexpected.
“Do you have access to your mother’s email?”
I hesitated.
“Yes.”
“Check the deleted folder.”
I opened it.
There were dozens of messages.
Insurance.
Hospital billing.
Prescription reminders.
Then I saw one from a law office.
RE: Carter Estate Transfer
I opened it.
The email had been sent two days before Mom's stroke.
My heart pounded.
“That's impossible.”
Daniel took the phone.
The attached PDF contained a draft document.
It wasn't a deed.
It was a revocable living trust.
And the trustee listed was Evan.
Marcus read it twice.
“Your mother apparently created this before the stroke.”
“But she didn't.”
“How do you know?”
“Because I was with her.”
Marcus looked at Daniel.
“Then someone started preparing the transfer before she was incapacitated.”
Daniel scrolled farther.
There was a second attachment.
A list of assets.
House.
Savings.
Investment account.
Life insurance.
Everything.
My mother's entire financial life had been mapped out.
Six days before her stroke.
Mom started crying.
“I never gave anyone those numbers.”
Marcus looked at her.
“Who had access to your home?”
“Evan.”
“Anyone else?”
Mom nodded slowly.
“His wife came by.”
My stomach twisted.
“Claire?”
Mom didn't answer.
Instead she whispered:
“They were arguing.”
“About what?”
“I heard Evan say, ‘Once she's gone, we’re clear.’”
Daniel suddenly stood.
“Gone where?”
Mom looked up.
“I thought he meant the hospital.”
Marcus asked, “Mrs. Carter, when was this?”
“The night before my stroke.”
The room went silent.
Then Marcus's phone rang.
He answered.
His expression changed within seconds.
“What did you find?”
He listened.
“Send everything.”
He hung up.
Daniel stepped closer.
“What happened?”
Marcus looked at all of us.
“The notary’s official death record is real.”
I waited.
“But someone has been using his identity for eight months.”
Daniel stared at him.
“Eight months?”
Marcus nodded.
“And your mother’s deed wasn’t the first.”
He opened his folder again.
Inside was a list.
Twenty-three names.
Twenty-three properties.
All transferred through the same notary identity.
And every owner was elderly.
Or sick.
Or both.
At the bottom of the page was a note.
One common beneficiary.
Daniel read it.
Then looked at me.
“The money isn't disappearing.”
“Where is it going?”
Marcus answered.
“Your brother may not be the person buying these houses.”
May you like
He pointed to one line.
“He may be collecting them.”
