“Gina is Diane’s daughter.”
I understood.
Gina had worked at the assisted living center where Lauren’s mother lived. She had once asked me to sign a delivery receipt. Her handwriting had been quick and narrow.
Lauren had found someone with the right name and enough access to imitate the seal.
The officer asked Michael to play the recordings.
He connected the drive to his phone. The first file contained static, then Lauren’s voice.
“We don’t need his permission. The power of attorney covers it.”
A man’s voice answered. “If he challenges the signature, the closing gets delayed.”
“He won’t. He still thinks Michael is loyal.”
Michael flinched.
The recording continued.
“You said the house would be transferred before he knew.”
“It will be, provided your husband stops asking questions.”
“He won’t. He doesn’t even know what he signed.”
My own voice seemed to vanish from the room.
Lauren reached for the phone.
The officer caught her wrist.
“Do not touch that.”
She stared at Michael.
“You recorded me.”
“No. Your laptop did.”
“You betrayed me.”
Michael looked at the red mark on his cheek reflected in the dark phone screen.
“You taught me that loyalty meant keeping quiet while you lied.”
The officer handcuffed her.
The metal clicked around her wrists.
She did not fight. She only looked at me with a kind of exhausted hatred, as if I had personally arranged every consequence waiting for her.
As they led her toward the door, she stopped beside me.
“You think he chose you,” she whispered.
I said nothing.
