Chapter 5 - THE HOUSE I THOUGHT WAS MINE
The refinance document was recorded six years earlier.
My signature appeared at the bottom.
It looked close enough to fool a stranger.
It didn't fool me.
I had never seen the paper.
I had never signed it.
Daniel had.
His signature was genuine.
Mine was not.
Rebecca stared at the copy.
“Did your husband know?”
“I don't know anymore.”
That sentence hurt more than almost anything.
We drove home.
Daniel was waiting in the driveway.
I held up the document.
His face collapsed.
“You knew.”
“Mabel—”
“You knew.”
“I knew there was a lien.”
“You knew my signature was on it?”
“No.”
“Don't lie again.”
“I swear.”
He looked sick.
“Raymond told me he could restructure the business debt. He said because we were married, he only needed my authorization initially and he'd send paperwork later.”
“You believed that?”
“I was desperate.”
“You signed something without telling me.”
“Yes.”
“And six years later, you still didn't tell me.”
“Yes.”
I wanted to scream.
Instead I said quietly:
“Do you know what hurts?”
He waited.
“I would have helped you.”
His eyes filled.
“We were married. I would have sat at this table and figured it out with you.”
“I know.”
“No. You chose Raymond over me.”
“I chose hiding over admitting I'd failed.”
“That isn't better.”
“I know.”
For the second time, Daniel did not ask me to forgive him.
Maybe he had finally understood Fiona's warning.
Rebecca contacted the lender.
The situation was complicated, but not hopeless.
The lien had apparently been rolled into Raymond's corporate credit structure and had never been enforced against our home.
Still, forged documents existed.
And the same notary name appeared on three suspicious papers.
Fiona's deed.
Her power of attorney.
My refinance.
Charles Grady.
A retired notary and former employee of Raymond's trucking company.
Rebecca's expression hardened.
“This isn't random.”
“What happens now?”
“We preserve everything.”
She contacted law enforcement.
Not dramatic FBI agents.
A county investigator specializing in financial crimes.
He took copies and asked us not to confront Charles.
Naturally, Raymond confronted me first.
He arrived after dark.
Alone.
I stood on the porch.
“You should leave.”
“You called police?”
“I reported forged documents.”
“You're destroying us.”
I laughed.
“That's interesting.”
“Mabel.”
“No. You've had decades to speak. I'm going to speak now.”
His face hardened.
“Mom gave me that property.”
“Then prove it.”
“I will.”
“Good.”
He stepped closer.
“You think she chose you because she loved you more?”
“I don't care.”
“Of course you do.”
“No.”
I looked him directly in the eyes.
“She chose me because I stayed.”
That landed.
Raymond's expression changed.
For a second, I saw something beneath the anger.
Shame.
Then it disappeared.
“You think staying twelve years made you her daughter.”
“No.”
“She had four children.”
“I know.”
“Blood matters.”
I thought about Fiona dying with my hand in hers.
“Yes.”
I said it softly.
“Blood matters.”
Then I looked at him.
“But apparently it wasn't enough to make you show up.”
Raymond flinched.
I closed the door.
At 2:13 that morning, Jonah woke me.
“Mom.”
I smelled smoke before he finished.
I ran downstairs.
Orange light flickered through the kitchen window.
The detached garage was burning.
“Daniel!”
He was still staying at his brother Luke's apartment.
I called 911.
Jonah and I ran outside in coats over pajamas.
Flames climbed the garage wall.
My car sat inside.
So did several boxes I had taken from Fiona's room after the funeral.
Nothing from Box 317.
But whoever started the fire might not know that.
Fire crews arrived.
The garage was destroyed.
At dawn, an investigator found an accelerant trail near the side door.
Arson.
I stood in the snow, shaking.
Rebecca arrived.
Then Daniel.
He ran toward me.
“Are you okay?”
I nodded.
He hugged Jonah first.
Then stopped in front of me.
He wanted to touch me.
He didn't.
The investigator approached.
“Mrs. Carter?”
“Yes?”
“Anybody have reason to believe documents were stored in that garage?”
I looked at Daniel.
He closed his eyes.
Raymond knew I had taken Fiona's bedroom boxes.
But so did Susan.
Luke.
Several neighbors.
Anyone at the funeral.
Then Jonah spoke.
“I saw a truck.”
Everyone turned.
“What truck?”
“Before bed.”
“What did it look like?”
“White.”
Daniel frowned.
“Raymond drives a black SUV.”
Jonah continued.
“It had letters on the side.”
“What letters?”
He thought.
“G… maybe G-R.”
Rebecca looked at me.
Charles Grady.
The notary.
Police went to his house.
He was gone.
His white work truck was gone too.
By afternoon, an alert had been issued.
That evening, officers found the truck abandoned behind a closed grain facility forty miles away.
Inside were gasoline cans.
Gloves.
And something else.
A photograph of our house.
On the back:
SEARCH GARAGE FIRST. PILLOW MAY BE THERE.
The handwriting was not Raymond's.
At least not obviously.
Daniel stared at the photograph.
“Somebody knew about the pillow.”
Only four people had been in the room when Luke tried to throw it away.
Raymond.
Susan.
Luke.
Daniel.
And me.
I felt sick.
Rebecca said quietly:
“Unless somebody was listening.”
I remembered neighbors.
Funeral staff.
People everywhere.
Then Daniel frowned.
“Wait.”
“What?”
“The house has a doorbell camera.”
My heart jumped.
The porch camera faced the driveway.
We checked the archive.
At 1:48 a.m., a white truck passed slowly.
At 1:56, someone walked along the edge of the property.
Face covered.
At 2:04, the person approached the garage.
But before disappearing from view, they looked toward the house.
Something hung from their neck.
A small silver cross.
Daniel went completely still.
“What?”
He zoomed in.
“No.”
“Who is it?”
He stared at the cross.
“Our sister Susan gave one exactly like that to her husband.”
I frowned.
“Tom?”
Daniel nodded.
Susan's husband.
The dentist.
The man who had barely spoken during the funeral.
The man everyone had ignored because he wasn't one of Fiona's children.
Daniel whispered:
“Tom used to work summers for Raymond.”
My phone rang.
Susan.
I answered.
She was sobbing so hard I could barely understand her.
“Mabel.”
“What happened?”
“Tom's gone.”
My stomach dropped.
“He left a note.”
“What does it say?”
Susan cried harder.
Then she read it.
I DID WHAT RAYMOND ASKED YEARS AGO. I WON'T GO TO PRISON FOR HIM NOW.
I looked at Daniel.
Raymond was no longer simply fighting over land.
He had been building secrets for years.
May you like
And one of them had just set fire to my home.
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