PART 3
“Can you come here?” I asked.
“I’m already on my way.”
“From Charlotte?”
“Yes.”
“That’s over an hour.”
“I know.”
She paused.
“And Tom?”
“Yes?”
“Do not leave that property.”
The call ended.
I lowered my phone.
Deputy Mills was still examining the deed.
Ron stood a few feet away with his arms folded across his chest.
For the first time since I arrived, he didn’t look amused.
Linda had moved closer to him.
“What does it say?” she asked.
Deputy Mills glanced up.
“I’m not an attorney. I’m not going to determine ownership.”
Ron immediately pointed at me.
“Exactly. So he needs to stop acting like he owns the place.”
Deputy Mills looked at him.
“Sir, I didn’t say that.”
Ron’s mouth tightened.
The deputy turned toward me.
“Mr. Hale, do you have the original trust documents?”
“Yes.”
“Can you access them?”
“I can.”
“Good. Don’t hand over originals. Show me copies or electronic records if you have them.”
I nodded.
Then something occurred to me.
“Deputy?”
“Yes?”
“Can I ask you something?”
“Sure.”
“Who called them here?”
He looked toward the U-Haul.
“What do you mean?”
“The moving company. Who hired them?”
Ron answered before the deputy could.
“Derek.”
“Where is Derek?”
Ron looked away.
“He’s working.”
“Where?”
“Charlotte.”
“What company?”
Ron sighed.
“Why does that matter?”
“Because I want to know how my son-in-law managed to move his parents into my wife’s cabin while I’m standing here holding documents proving they don’t own it.”
Ron took another sip of his beer.
“Derek told us everything was settled.”
“Settled how?”
“He said your daughter inherited the cabin.”
“My daughter doesn’t inherit it until after I die.”
Ron shrugged.
“That’s not what he told us.”
I looked at Linda.
“And you believed him?”
She looked uncomfortable.
“He showed us paperwork.”
“What paperwork?”
“The deed.”
“The same one you just showed the deputy?”
“Yes.”
“Did you see Margaret sign it?”
Linda’s face changed.
“No.”
“Did you speak to Margaret after she died?”
She looked at the ground.
“No.”
“Then why would you believe that she signed something six months ago?”
Ron stepped between us.
“Because we trusted Derek.”
I stared at him.
“That isn’t an answer.”
“It is to us.”
Deputy Mills cleared his throat.
“Let’s keep this civil.”
I nodded.
“I’m trying.”
Then I looked back at the cabin.
“Deputy, there is something else.”
“What?”
“I want them removed from the property.”
Ron laughed nervously.
“You can’t just throw us out.”
“I can if you don’t have permission to be here.”
Deputy Mills held up a hand.
“I’m going to make a temporary determination based on the available information. Mr. Mercer, until ownership is established, I need you and your wife to remain outside the cabin.”
Ron stared at him.
“But our belongings—”
“Stay where they are.”
“This is ridiculous.”
“I didn’t make the situation.”
Ron looked at me with pure hatred.
“This isn’t over.”
I met his eyes.
“No.”
“It isn’t.”
He didn’t understand what I meant.
Neither did I.
Not yet.
My attorney arrived forty-seven minutes later.
Her name was Evelyn Parker.
She stepped out of a black sedan carrying a leather folder and a tablet.
She didn’t waste time greeting anyone.
She walked straight toward me.
“Where is it?”
I pointed toward Deputy Mills.
“The deed.”
She took one look at it.
Her expression changed.
“Where did you get this?”
“Ron had it.”
She carefully examined the document without touching it.
“Did he give this to the deputy?”
“Yes.”
“Good.”
She looked at me.
“Tom, I need you to understand something.”
“I’ve already had a strange morning. Go ahead.”
“This isn’t a simple quitclaim deed.”
“What is it?”
“It appears to be a copy of a recorded instrument.”
I frowned.
“Recorded where?”
“The county register of deeds.”
My stomach dropped.
“You’re telling me this thing was actually recorded?”
“I need to verify it.”
She pulled out her phone.
A few seconds later, she looked up.
“Yes.”
My heart began pounding.
“What?”
“This deed was recorded twenty-three days ago.”
I stared at her.
“That’s impossible.”
“I know.”
“Margaret has been dead for three years.”
“I know.”
“And the trust still owns the cabin.”
“Yes.”
“Then how was a deed transferring it out of the trust recorded?”
Evelyn’s face became serious.
“That’s what we’re going to find out.”
Ron suddenly stepped closer.
“Maybe Margaret changed her mind before she died.”
I turned toward him.
“She died three years ago.”
“People make decisions before they die.”
“She didn’t sign this.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I was with her.”
“You weren’t with her every second.”
Evelyn raised her hand.
“Mr. Mercer, stop.”
Ron looked at her.
“This is a family matter.”
“No,” Evelyn said. “It stopped being a family matter when a property deed was recorded using the purported signature of a deceased person.”
Silence.
Even Ron had nothing to say.
Evelyn turned to me.
“Do you have Margaret’s death certificate?”
“Yes.”
“Bring it.”
I went to my truck.
As I opened the glove compartment, I suddenly remembered something.
Margaret had always kept important documents in a small metal box.
The box had been in the cabin.
I hadn’t opened it since she died.
I returned with the death certificate.
Evelyn examined it.
Then she looked at the deed.
Her eyes narrowed.
“Tom.”
“What?”
“Look at the date.”
I leaned closer.
The deed had been supposedly signed on October 14.
Margaret’s death certificate stated October 3.
Eleven days earlier.
My hands began trembling.
“That’s not possible.”
“No.”
Evelyn looked toward Deputy Mills.
“This is potentially evidence of fraud.”
The deputy nodded slowly.
“I’ll document everything.”
Ron shook his head.
“You people are making a mountain out of nothing.”
Evelyn turned to him.
“Where did you get this document?”
“Derek.”
“From where?”
“He gave it to us.”
“When?”
“Last week.”
“Did he tell you who prepared it?”
Ron hesitated.
“No.”
“Did he tell you where it was recorded?”
“I don’t remember.”
“Did he give you anything else?”
Ron looked at Linda.
Linda looked at Ron.
That tiny exchange told me more than either of them wanted.
Evelyn noticed it too.
“Mrs. Mercer?”
Linda looked nervous.
“What?”
“Did Derek give you anything else?”
She hesitated.
Then she whispered,
“Yes.”
“What?”
“A key.”
“To what?”
“The upstairs office.”
My blood went cold.
There was an upstairs office in the cabin.
Margaret’s office.
I hadn’t been inside it since the funeral.
Not because I couldn’t.
Because I couldn’t bear to.
“What key?” I asked.
Linda pointed toward the U-Haul.
“In one of the boxes.”
“Why would Derek have a key to Margaret’s office?”
She shook her head.
“I don’t know.”
Ron suddenly snapped.
“Linda.”
She looked at him.
“What?”
“You don’t need to explain everything.”
Evelyn’s eyes moved between them.
“Actually, I think she does.”
Ron stepped forward.
“This is harassment.”
“No,” Evelyn replied. “This is an investigation.”
Deputy Mills looked at Ron.
“Sir, I’d strongly advise you not to interfere.”
Ron backed away.
But before he did, he said something that I will never forget.
“You’re all looking in the wrong place.”
I stared at him.
“What does that mean?”
He didn’t answer.
Two hours later, the U-Haul was still sitting in the driveway.
The boxes were still inside the cabin.
Nobody had moved anything.
Deputy Mills had documented the deed, the trust paperwork, and Margaret’s death certificate.
Evelyn had contacted the county recorder.
And I stood on the porch looking through the window at the place where my wife used to sit every morning.
I remembered the first time Margaret and I came here.
We were twenty-nine.
The cabin wasn’t much.
Two bedrooms.
A tiny kitchen.
A crooked porch.
The lake looked beautiful through the trees.
Margaret had walked through the front door, turned around slowly, and smiled.
“Tom,” she’d said, “I think I could grow old here.”
“You’re already planning my retirement?”
“No.”
She kissed me.
“I’m planning ours.”
She never got to grow old here.
But I had spent three years believing I could at least preserve the little world she’d left behind.
Now someone had invaded it.
And somehow, someone had used her dead signature to do it.
Evelyn came outside.
“Tom.”
I turned.
“Yes?”
“I need you to come with me.”
“Where?”
“Inside.”
I looked at the deputy.
He nodded.
“We’ll stay with you.”
We entered the cabin.
The air smelled different.
Beer.
Cardboard.
Someone else’s perfume.
Someone else’s life.
I hated it.
Evelyn walked toward the staircase.
“Where is the office?”
“Upstairs.”
We climbed.
At the end of the hallway was a white door.
Margaret’s office.
I stopped.
Evelyn looked at me.
“You don’t have to open it.”
“Yes.”
I reached for the knob.
It was unlocked.
I pushed the door open.
Dust covered almost everything.
Except the desk.
There was a clean rectangular area where something had recently been removed.
Evelyn noticed.
“What was there?”
“A laptop.”
“You had a laptop in here?”
“Yes.”
“Where is it now?”
“I don’t know.”
I walked toward the desk.
The drawers were open.
Papers were scattered across the floor.
Someone had searched the room.
I knelt.
One drawer had been completely emptied.
Another had only old photographs.
Then I noticed something underneath the desk.
A small brass key.
I picked it up.
Margaret had engraved a tiny letter on it.
M.
Evelyn looked at it.
“Do you recognize it?”
“Yes.”
“What does it open?”
I stared at the key.
