Chapter 8 - The Signature My Sister Swore Was Not Hers
The statement looked convincing.
That was the problem.
Brooke’s full legal name appeared at the bottom.
Her date of birth.
Her driver’s license number.
Even a signature close enough to hers that I would not have questioned it on a birthday card.
The affidavit claimed she had watched me scream at Lorraine, block doorways, threaten to “bury” her, and manipulate Natalie during a mental breakdown.
Brooke read it twice.
Then she ran to the bathroom and vomited.
The police officer waited on the porch.
“I’m not here to arrest you,” he said. “This is a temporary civil order. Hearing is scheduled in four days.”
“Am I required to leave my house?”
He checked the pages.
“The petitioner alleges this is her primary residence and claims tenancy rights.”
“It’s my house.”
“That will be for the court to sort out.”
“She isn’t here.”
“Then there is no immediate contact issue tonight. But read the restrictions carefully.”
I wanted to tell him the entire story.
Forgery.
Cancer.
The stolen money.
Dad’s trust.
Instead, I called Marcus.
“Do not explain anything to the officer beyond identification,” he said. “Take the paperwork. I’ll handle the hearing.”
“She forged Brooke’s signature.”
“Good.”
“Good?”
“Good for us. Bad for her.”
Brooke came back into the living room.
She looked furious now.
Marcus told her to photograph the affidavit and send him samples of her real signature.
Then he said, “Brooke, I need to ask you something unpleasant.”
“Go ahead.”
“Has your mother ever had permission to sign documents for you?”
Brooke went quiet.
“Yes.”
“How broad?”
“I don’t know.”
Marcus swore softly.
“When?”
“Years ago. Car loan. Condo paperwork. Some business forms.”
“That complicates it.”
“She didn’t have permission to sign this.”
“I believe you. We need to prove it.”
After the officer left, I locked every exterior door.
Then I called a locksmith.
At nine at night, a tired man named Ramon replaced four locks while pretending not to notice Natalie’s scarf or the broken office.
Brooke watched through the window.
“She will say you’re locking her out illegally.”
“She left.”
“She’ll say you forced her.”
“Probably.”
Brooke looked at me.
“Are you sorry I came back?”
“No.”
“You should be.”
“I’m not.”
“I took the SUV. I signed things. I believed her when she called Natalie lazy.”
Natalie looked up from the couch.
Brooke’s eyes filled.
“I treated you terribly.”
Natalie said nothing.
Brooke continued.
“I thought you were using Ethan.”
“Why?”
“Because Mom said so.”
“That isn’t a reason.”
“I know.”
Natalie looked at her for a long time.
“You laughed when I asked for money for the biopsy.”
Brooke’s face crumpled.
“I thought Mom had already paid for it.”
“You said, ‘Maybe stop buying art supplies.’”
“I know.”
“You told me cancer didn’t excuse being pathetic.”
Brooke began to cry.
“I know.”
Natalie’s voice did not soften.
“You grabbed me.”
Brooke looked at the floor.
“Yes.”
“Hard enough to bruise me.”
“Yes.”
I stayed silent.
This belonged to Natalie.
Brooke whispered, “I’m sorry.”
Natalie nodded slowly.
“I believe you are.”
Brooke looked up.
“But?”
“But I am not ready to forgive you.”
Brooke wiped her cheeks.
“You shouldn’t.”
It was the first honest thing I had heard between them.
The next morning, Natalie began chemotherapy.
The infusion center smelled like antiseptic and coffee.
She wore a soft blue cap.
I sat beside her while the nurse explained medications, side effects, hydration, fever precautions, and what to expect over the next several days.
Natalie listened carefully.
Then she looked at the clear bag hanging from the pole.
“This is really happening.”
I took her hand.
“Yes.”
“Stay.”
“I’m not going anywhere.”
She smiled faintly.
“You always say that right before work sends you somewhere.”
I almost smiled.
“Work can fire me.”
“They already did.”
“Then perfect timing.”
She laughed.
It was small.
It was everything.
Halfway through the infusion, Marcus arrived.
He looked ridiculous carrying a leather briefcase into an oncology center.
Natalie stared at him.
“You know lawyers are bad luck in hospitals.”
“I brought snacks.”
“Accepted.”
He sat across from us.
“I have news.”
I glanced at Natalie.
“Good or bad?”
“Both.”
“Start bad.”
“The forty thousand Lorraine moved is gone.”
“Gone where?”
“Cashier’s check.”
“To whom?”
“Celia Hart.”
I went still.
Dad’s old banking partner.
The woman who disappeared after his funeral.
“Why would Lorraine send money to Celia?”
“I don’t know.”
“Can we trace it?”
“The check was deposited yesterday at a credit union in Oregon.”
Natalie’s eyes widened.
“She’s alive.”
“Yes.”
I said, “What’s the good news?”
Marcus opened his briefcase.
“The affidavit Brooke supposedly signed was notarized.”
Brooke was not with us, but I already knew why that mattered.
“So?”
“The notary stamp belongs to a woman who died eleven months ago.”
I stared at him.
“You’re kidding.”
“No.”
“Then it’s fake.”
“Very.”
“Can we get the protective order dismissed?”
“Probably.”
“Can we get Lorraine charged?”
“Forgery is possible. False filing. Fraud. Depends on who submitted what.”
Natalie closed her eyes as another drug began dripping.
“Please tell me she can’t touch the insurance.”
“She cannot.”
Marcus leaned toward her.
“We alerted the carrier. Ethan’s employer flagged the policy for in-person verification only.”
She nodded.
I asked, “What about the house?”
“Messy. The refinance signature is going to need forensic review.”
“Can we stop foreclosure?”
“I paid the arrears from your personal project account this morning with your authorization.”
I exhaled.
“Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me. I billed you.”
Natalie laughed again.
Then a nurse approached.
“Mr. Cole?”
“Yes?”
“There’s a woman at reception asking to see you.”
“Who?”
“She says her name is Celia Hart.”
My chair moved before I decided to stand.
Marcus stood too.
Natalie grabbed my wrist.
“Don’t leave.”
I looked at her.
Then toward the hallway.
Twenty-seven years of questions were standing thirty feet away.
I sat back down.
“Tell her to come here.”
The nurse hesitated.
“She said she won’t enter the infusion room.”
“Why?”
May you like
The nurse looked uncomfortable.
“She said she believes someone followed her.”
