Chapter 5: The Woman Who Knew
I called Patricia from the parking lot.
"It's her handwriting," I said.
"Lorraine's.
She signed my name."
A brief pause.
"You're certain?"
"I have eleven years of her handwriting.
Birthday cards.
Notes.
I'm certain."
"All right." Patricia's voice stayed level, which steadied me.
"Do not confront her.
Do not contact Daniel about this specifically.
Bring me the original document tomorrow morning and we'll have a handwriting comparison initiated.
In the meantime, I want you to write down every example of her handwriting you can locate and photograph them."
"There's something else," I said.
"The notarization stamp.
Someone notarized a forged document."
"Yes," Patricia said.
"That person is also in serious trouble.
Do you recognize the notary name?"
I looked at the page.
The notary stamp read: *Kevin R.
Marsh, Commissioned Notary, State License #—*
"No," I said.
"I don't know him."
"I'll run it.
Go home — to the hotel — and get some rest.
You've done the right things today."
I sat in the car a moment longer.
Then I texted Daniel.
*"I've spoken to a lawyer.
I need you to meet me tomorrow.
Neutral location.
Just you."*
He replied in four minutes.
*"Fine.
But Claire, please don't make this ugly.
Mom is already devastated that you called security on her."*
I stared at the word devastated.
Lorraine was devastated.
The woman who had forged my signature, moved into my home, and told me to check the savings account like it was a threat she had been saving up — she was devastated.
I put the phone in my bag and drove back to the hotel.
I ordered room service for the first time in my adult life.
Soup and bread and a glass of wine.
I ate at the small desk by the window and watched the city lights come on below me, one building at a time.
My phone rang at nine-fifteen.
Not Daniel.
A number I didn't recognize.
I almost let it go to voicemail.
Something made me answer.
"Is this Claire Bennett?"
"Yes.
Who's calling?"
A pause.
A woman's voice, older, careful.
"My name is Donna Marsh.
I think you spoke with my husband today.
Kevin Marsh.
The notary."
My hand tightened on the phone.
"He came home this evening very upset," Donna continued.
"He told me what he did.
He told me everything." Another pause.
"He wants to speak with you.
He wants to make it right before this goes any further."
I set down my wine glass.
"Tell him I'll call him tomorrow morning," I said.
"Tell him not to speak to Daniel or Lorraine tonight."
"He won't," Donna said quietly.
"Mrs.
Bennett — I'm sorry.
I don't think he understood what he was really signing off on.
She told him it was a routine family transfer.
That you had already agreed."
"She lied to him," I said.
"Yes," Donna said.
"She did."
I thanked her and ended the call.
Then I sat very still for a long moment.
Lorraine had not acted alone.
She had recruited someone.
She had constructed a story, found a notary willing to stamp a document without proper verification, and executed a plan while I was six time zones away.
This had not been impulsive.
This had been planned.
May you like
The question that kept me awake that night was not whether I could prove it.
It was how long ago she had started.
