Chapter 2 - The Deed I Never Signed
By eight-thirty that morning, the porch was quiet again.
The broken railing wasn’t.
Arthur ran his fingers across the damaged wood and shook his head.
“Your husband would haunt David for that.”
Despite everything, I laughed.
Then my phone rang.
It was Elaine Mercer, the attorney I had hired two days earlier.
“Lisa, I need you in my office.”
“Why?”
“Because what I found yesterday is worse than I thought.”
Two hours later, I sat across from Elaine beneath shelves filled with legal books.
She slid a document toward me.
QUITCLAIM DEED.
My name appeared at the top.
So did David’s.
According to the document, I had transferred a fifty-percent interest in my home to my son six weeks earlier.
My signature sat at the bottom.
Perfect.
Almost.
“I never signed this.”
“I know.”
“How?”
Elaine placed a second page beside it.
The notarization was defective.
The notary listed on the document had allowed her commission to expire months before the date shown.
More importantly, I had been in Asheville with my sister on the supposed signing date.
I had hotel receipts, credit card records, photographs and toll data.
“That should make it easy to challenge,” Elaine said.
My stomach twisted.
“Who filed it?”
“The county records indicate it was submitted electronically through a document service.”
“By David?”
“Account name: Sarah Collins.”
My daughter-in-law’s maiden name.
I sat very still.
Sarah had not merely talked about taking my house.
She had already begun.
“When did you find this?”
“Last night.”
Elaine slid another folder toward me.
“There’s more.”
The fraudulent deed had been used as supporting documentation in an application for a home-equity line.
I stared at her.
“How much?”
“Two hundred and fifty thousand dollars.”
My chest tightened.
“Against my house?”
“The application wasn’t approved.”
“Why not?”
“The lender requested additional verification from the original owner.”
Me.
“They never contacted me.”
“They were about to.”
I looked at the date.
The application had been submitted three days before David and Sarah left for their birthday trip.
Suddenly the getaway made sense.
They expected the process to move while they were gone.
Then, when they returned, maybe they planned to put paperwork in front of me.
Tax documents.
Insurance forms.
Power of attorney.
Anything that made the fraudulent chain harder to unravel.
Elaine watched me carefully.
“Lisa, does David have financial problems?”
“I don’t know.”
“He may.”
She showed me another report.
David had opened three credit accounts in the previous year.
Two were nearly maxed out.
Then I saw a number that made me feel physically ill.
$86,400.
“That’s his debt?”
“Not including vehicle financing.”
I thought about the expensive dinners.
Weekend trips.
Sarah’s designer handbags.
David’s new gaming setup.
They had been living as though money never ended.
Then Elaine pointed to the equity application.
A line identified the purpose of the requested funds.
DEBT CONSOLIDATION AND PROPERTY IMPROVEMENT.
“What property improvement?”
“That’s what I wondered.”
She turned another page.
Attached were renovation estimates.
Primary bedroom conversion.
Accessible bathroom.
First-floor caregiver suite.
My mouth went dry.
They had already priced the work needed to convert my bedroom into something resembling supervised housing.
Elaine looked at me.
“Lisa, there’s one more attachment.”
She hesitated before sliding it across.
It was a letter from a physician.
The letter stated that David had expressed concerns about my memory, judgment and ability to manage financial decisions.
No examination had taken place.
No diagnosis existed.
But at the bottom was an appointment request.
For me.
At a memory clinic.
May you like
Scheduled for Monday morning.
David had made it without telling me.
