Chapter 5 - The Woman Who Had Been WatchingRebecca Sloan insisted the contract remain on the desk until the deputy photographed every page.
Her signature appeared nowhere on the document, but her name had been used in the section describing the verification process. Someone had made the paperwork look legitimate by attaching the identities of people connected to Grandpa's estate.
The more we examined it, the less it resembled a sloppy attempt at forgery.
It was carefully constructed.
The contract included my correct date of birth, my current address, and a handwritten note describing me as the sole residential occupant.
It even listed my occupation.
Someone had researched me.
Someone had watched me.
The realization made the house feel suddenly unfamiliar.
“Who has access to these records?” I asked.
Rebecca closed the folder.
“Only a limited number of people.”
“Can you tell me who?”
“Not until we've reviewed the access logs.”
Dad let out a bitter laugh from the doorway.
“You see? This is exactly what happens when you turn a simple family matter into a circus.”
I turned toward him.
“Did you know about this contract?”
“No.”
“Did you know Victor Shaw was coming?”
He hesitated.
That hesitation said everything.
Mom appeared behind him.
“Richard, tell them the truth.”
He spun around.
“You're not helping.”
“I'm trying to understand why we're standing in a house we supposedly own while a sheriff questions us!”
“Then stop talking!”
Mom recoiled.
For one brief moment, I saw fear in her eyes.
Not the fear of being exposed.
The fear of realizing that the man she had trusted to arrange their escape from debt might have dragged her into something she couldn't control.
I wondered how many times she'd looked that way during the seventeen years she never visited me.
Then my attention shifted to Chloe.
She had been unusually quiet.
“Clara,” she said, “can we speak?”
I followed her into the conservatory, where Grandpa used to grow tomatoes in the summer. The glass panes were streaked with rain, and the old wooden shelves remained lined with empty flowerpots.
Chloe closed the door.
“You need to understand something about Dad.”
“I understand that he's trying to sell a house he doesn't own.”
“He didn't start this because he wanted to hurt you.”
“That's an interesting defense.”
“He's in trouble. Real trouble.”
“So are a lot of people. They don't all forge documents.”
She wrapped her arms around herself.
“Victor isn't the kind of person who accepts a failed deal.”
“Then he can sue Dad.”
“He won't stop at suing him.”
I studied her face.
“What exactly did you sign?”
She hesitated, then pulled a folded document from her handbag.
It was a preliminary sales agreement.
Her signature was at the bottom.
“I thought Dad had permission,” she whispered. “He told me Grandpa had discussed selling the land to finance a new business.”
“Grandpa never told me that.”
“He didn't tell me much either.”
“You barely spoke to him.”
She looked down.
“I know.”
It was the first honest thing she'd said all day.
I accepted the document.
A paragraph on the second page caught my eye.
If the transfer could not be completed by the agreed date, the signatories would be jointly liable for the advance and additional contractual penalties.
“Chloe, do you know what this means?”
She nodded.
“That's why I came.”
“You came with a moving truck.”
Her eyes filled with tears.
“I didn't know you would be here.”
I stared at her.
“You didn't know I'd be here? I live here.”
“I know that. I mean, Dad said you'd leave quietly.”
The room went still.
“What?”
“He said you wouldn't fight us. He said Grandpa had promised him the house, and you'd be too embarrassed to challenge him.”
Something inside me tightened.
“Why would I be embarrassed?”
“Because he said you knew the family had financial problems and you would want to help.”
I stepped back.
They had not come merely to claim an inheritance.
They had expected me to cooperate.
They had expected me to sign away the home Grandpa had given me.
And if I refused, the plan was to make me look selfish for protecting it.
“Did Dad know about the forged signature?”
“I don't know.”
“Chloe.”
She closed her eyes.
“I think he knew about the contract. I think he believed they could pressure you into signing a final agreement, and the earlier document would be treated as a misunderstanding.”
I could barely speak.
“And you helped him.”
“I thought we could get out of debt.”
“You thought you could get out of debt with my home.”
She began crying.
I didn't comfort her.
Instead, I asked the question that had been bothering me since we were children.
“Why didn't you ever ask to visit me?”
Chloe looked up.
“What?”
“You were old enough to call. You had a phone. You knew where I lived. Why didn't you ever come?”
Her lips trembled.
“Mom said you didn't want us.”
I laughed once, without humor.
“Of course she did.”
“She said you hated us. She said Grandpa had turned you against the family.”
“Did you believe her?”
Chloe looked at the floor.
“Yes.”
I handed her the agreement.
“Then you've been believing her for seventeen years.”
She accepted the paper with shaking hands.
Before either of us could speak again, the conservatory door opened.
Rebecca stood there.
“Clara, we found something else in your grandfather's records.”
She looked at Chloe, then back at me.
“Your parents didn't just attempt to sell the property.”
May you like
She paused.
“They may have been preparing to remove you from the estate before your grandfather died.”
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