Chapter 7: Ray Cutler Comes to the Table
Patricia moved faster than I expected.
By noon, she had spoken to a contact at the FBI field office in Los Angeles who handled financial crjmes.
By two o'clock, a preliminary review of the loan documents had confirmed what Dennis Farrow had suspected — the notarization on my signature was irregular.
The notary stamp belonged to a licensed notary in Riverside County who, when contacted, had no record of ever meeting me or processing any document in my name.
Someone had used a stolen notary stamp.
That changed the charge profile significantly, Patricia told me.
It moved the case from civil fraud into criminal forgery territory.
At three in the afternoon, Ray Cutler called me directly.
I didn't know how he had my number.
Then I remembered: he had been Brandon's friend for years.
Of course he had it.
I answered on speaker with Patricia sitting across from me.
"Charlotte." His voice was smooth.
Practiced.
The voice of a man who had talked his way out of things before.
"I think there's been a lot of confusion and I'd like to clear it up."
"I'm listening."
"The renovation plan was always meant to benefit you.
Increase the property value.
Brandon wanted to surprise you.
I know it looks bad right now, but if you'll just give us a chance to explain the financials, I think you'll see that everything was done with your best interests in mind."
Patricia was writing on her notepad.
She turned it toward me: *Keep him talking.*
"Whose idea was the second loan application?" I asked.
A beat.
"There's no second application."
"Pacific Bridge Lending has it on file.
Submitted two days ago.
In Brandon's name, brokered through the same referral arrangement.
Against the same property."
Silence.
"Ray, I have the referral agreement.
I have the Vantage Build Group registration.
I have a recorded statement from someone who helped build the company's online presence.
And I have a loan officer who is currently cooperating with federal investigators."
The smoothness left his voice.
"You're making a mistake."
"Tell me what I'm getting wrong."
"Brandon has information about you.
Financial decisions you made that could look very bad if they came out.
If you push this, he'll have no choice but to—"
"To what?" I said.
"To tell the truth?
I have nothing to hide, Ray.
Do you?"
Another silence.
Longer.
"I want to make a deal," he said finally.
"The loan gets reversed.
The permit gets withdrawn.
Everything goes back to where it was.
You get your house free and clear and nobody files anything."
Patricia was already shaking her head.
"The time for deals was before you forged my signature," I said.
"We're past that now."
"Charlotte—"
"This call is being recorded," I said.
"Goodbye, Ray."
I ended the call.
Patricia set her pen down.
"He just confirmed knowledge of the second application and offered to reverse the loan in exchange for you not filing.
That's consciousness of guilt.
That recording is going to be very useful."
My phone buzzed immediately.
A text from Brandon.
*What did you say to Ray?
He just called me.
Charlotte, he's not a safe person to make angry.
Please.
I'm asking you to stop.*
I read it twice.
Then I typed back: *Brandon, if you want to protect yourself, call Patricia Weld's office.
Her number is on her website.
Do it today.*
I set the phone down.
"His mother told him to threaten me with fabricated documents," I said to Patricia.
"Ray just tried to bribe me.
And Brandon is warning me that Ray is dangerous." I looked at her.
"How long before they realize none of it is working?"
"Based on what I've seen today?" Patricia said.
"They already know."
She was right.
At four fifty-five, Brandon called Patricia's office directly and asked to speak with her.
He came in the following morning without Ray, without Gertrude, and without a lawyer of his own.
He sat down across from Patricia and me and put a folder on the table.
"I want to cooperate," he said.
His voice was flat.
Exhausted.
"I want to tell you everything Ray has on me and everything I know about what he did.
And I want to know if there's anything left to save."
May you like
He didn't look at me when he said that last part.
But I noticed his hands were shaking — the same way mine had been, standing at the kitchen sink, the night I found Skylar alone in the dark.
