James Wheeler’s voice carried through the speaker.
“Ms. Morrison, the county fraud unit arrived with a warrant twenty minutes ago. They’re asking about the power of attorney, the deed transfer, and the closing package.” Nobody at the table breathed. Jake opened his mouth, closed it, then looked toward my father as if someone else might save him.
“There must be some mistake,” he said. I took the phone off speaker. “No mistake. I reported the forged documents three weeks ago.” Gasps rippled through the room. My mother’s hand flew to her throat. “Three weeks?” she whispered. I nodded. The first suspicious notice had reached me overseas. Instead of confronting anyone, I quietly contacted investigators, the title company, and my agency’s legal department.
The lawyer continued speaking. “The signature analysis came back yesterday. It wa….
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