Chapter 4: The Man Named Terrence
"The secondary account Brandon has been using," Grace said.
"I ran the routing number you gave me.
It doesn't belong to a personal bank.
It belongs to an LLC."
I set my coffee down.
"What LLC?"
"Registered in Nevada eight months ago.
The registered agent is listed as Terrence Aldwell.
Does that name mean anything to you?"
It did.
I had heard it once — on that recorded phone call.
Brandon had said his name like he was someone who solved problems.
Like he was someone who had done this before.
"I've heard the name," I said.
"I don't know who he is."
"He's a property broker.
Specializes in fast residential transactions.
Mostly cash buyers, mostly off-market." Grace paused.
"Charlotte, I think the renovation was never the point.
I think the plan was to use the loan to stage a quick renovation, inflate the property value on paper, and then sell the house in a private transaction before you could contest it."
The room felt smaller.
"They were going to sell my house."
"And move the proceeds into the LLC before you had any legal standing to freeze them.
The renovation permits were the last piece.
Once those were filed, they could list the property within days."
I thought about Hailey filming the crab legs.
Gertrude raising her glass.
Brandon laughing about how much I worked.
They had been celebrating.
Not dinner.
The plan.
"How do we stop the sale?" I said.
"I filed a lis pendens this morning.
It attaches to the property record and flags any potential buyer that there's active litigation.
No legitimate title company will close a sale with that on record." Grace's voice was steady.
"The house isn't going anywhere."
I exhaled slowly.
"Now," she said, "I need you to come in this afternoon.
We're going to the fraud unit at the DA's office.
I've already spoken with an investigator there named Paulson.
He's reviewed the recording and the loan documents.
He wants to hear from you directly."
"Today?"
"Today.
Charlotte — what they did crosses into crjminal territory.
The forged signature alone is enough.
The recording makes it worse for them.
Paulson said those were his words, not mine."
I looked at Skylar, who was sitting at the small hotel desk eating a granola bar and drawing in the notebook I'd bought her from the lobby gift shop.
She was drawing a house.
Our house.
With flowers in front that we had never actually planted.
"I need to arrange someone to stay with Skylar."
"Of course.
Take the time you need.
But Charlotte —" Grace stopped.
"Don't contact Brandon before we meet.
Don't respond to Gertrude.
Don't give them any indication of what's coming."
"I haven't said a word to any of them."
"Good.
Keep it that way."
I arrived at Grace's office at two in the afternoon.
Investigator Paulson was already there — a quiet man with a yellow legal pad and the kind of stillness that made you feel like he had heard every version of every story and was waiting to hear yours.
I told him everything.
He wrote without looking up.
When I finished, he set his pen down and looked at me directly.
"Mrs.
Mercer, I want to be honest with you.
The forged signature and the loan application give us a strong foundation.
The recording is significant — particularly the statement about moving money before you could contest.
What I need now is to establish Terrence Aldwell's direct involvement.
Do you have any communication between your husband and Aldwell beyond the recorded call?"
I reached into my bag and placed the USB drive on the table.
"There are eleven additional exchanges," I said.
"Text screenshots, two more calls, and an email thread using an account Brandon set up under a variation of his middle name.
The last email was sent six days ago.
Aldwell confirmed he had a buyer ready."
Paulson looked at the drive.
Then at me.
"How long have you been building this?"
"Six months."
He picked up the drive carefully, the way you handle something that matters.
"Mrs.
Mercer," he said, "your husband is going to say you fabricated this."
"I know," I said.
"That's why I kept the originals."
What I didn't know — what no one had told me yet — was that Terrence Aldwell had already contacted someone else.
May you like
Someone whose name I recognized immediately when Paulson showed me the message thread twenty minutes later.
Someone who was supposed to be on my side.
