Chapter 2 - FORTY-SEVEN DOCUMENTS

I enlarged the check until the fake signature filled my screen.

Twenty-five thousand dollars.

The date was six weeks earlier, on a day I had been supervising a bridge project eighty miles away.

Teresa reached for my phone. “Give me that.”

I stepped back. “Why?”

“Because you’re misunderstanding private family business.”

Amy clutched Frederick tighter. “Private family business?”

My aunt Betsy entered carrying a platter of ribs. “What’s going on?”

I turned the screen toward her. “Did Mom tell you I gave her twenty-five thousand dollars?”

Betsy’s face changed.

Teresa snapped, “Connor, stop embarrassing yourself.”

I opened the next file. A credit card statement under my name showed purchases at a jewelry store, a furniture warehouse, and a luxury resort in Gatlinburg. Another file showed a personal loan opened with my Social Security number.

Balance: $86,400.

My chest tightened.

“Mom,” I said slowly, “did you take out a loan in my name?”

She laughed too loudly. “You work too much. I handle the paperwork. That’s why you need me.”

“That isn’t an answer.”

“You gave me permission.”

“No, I didn’t.”

Her eyes sharpened. “Be careful, Connor.”

That warning told me more than any confession could have.

I opened another document. This one was an email from my mortgage company confirming a request to add Teresa Bradley as an authorized property manager. Attached was a notarized form bearing my signature.

I had never seen it.

Amy whispered, “She told me you were putting the house in her name.”

I looked at my wife. “Why didn’t you call me?”

“I tried.” Tears filled her eyes. “She took my phone during the day. She said you were tired of my complaining.”

Teresa pointed at her. “She’s lying.”

Then Frederick made a weak, raspy sound.

That ended the argument.

I moved past my mother, opened the locked cabinet with a screwdriver, and found the infant medicine pushed behind bottles of tequila.

Beside it sat a small digital recorder.

Amy went pale.

“I’ve never seen that,” she said.

I pressed play.

Teresa’s voice filled the kitchen.

“Tell Connor you’re happy, or I’ll make sure he thinks you’re an unfit mother.”

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