Chapter 8: Fitch
Daniel found him on Monday.
Not out of the country.
Forty minutes north, at a property he owned under a family trust — a detail that had taken Daniel's contact at the county recorder's office less than an hour to surface.
The district attorney's investigator made contact that afternoon.
I wasn't there for it.
Daniel called me while I was at my desk at work, staring at a project file I hadn't been able to read for three days.
"Fitch cooperated," Daniel said.
I set down my pen.
"Completely?"
"Enough.
He confirmed Teresa approached him fourteen months ago.
He confirmed he prepared both documents.
He's claiming she told him you had verbally agreed to both transfers and that the written signatures were a formality you'd already approved."
"That's not true."
"He knows that now.
Or he's decided it's more useful to say he knows it." A pause.
"He surrendered his copies of both documents and provided a signed statement.
The DA is moving forward.
Connor, Teresa is going to be contacted for formal questioning this week."
I looked at the window.
The afternoon light was flat and gray.
"What are the charges?"
"Deed fraud.
Forgery of a legal instrument.
Attempted fraudulent transfer of real property.
Possibly elder financial fraud statutes, given the power of attorney angle — those carry enhanced penalties." Daniel's voice was careful.
"Fitch is looking at disbarment proceedings separate from the criminal matter.
He'll likely negotiate.
Teresa has no one left to negotiate with on her behalf."
"Mason," I said.
"And Betsy.
And Roy."
"All three have given statements.
Mason's was limited — he genuinely may not have known the full scope.
Betsy and Roy were more complete." A pause.
"Your family showed up for you, Connor.
Not all of them.
But enough."
I didn't say anything for a moment.
"Daniel.
What happens to her?"
He understood what I was asking.
Not the legal answer.
The other one.
"That's not something I can tell you," he said.
"But whatever happens — it came from her choices.
Not yours."
I thanked him and hung up.
I sat at my desk for a while.
I thought about Teresa standing in my hallway at age seven, teaching me how to tie a Windsor knot for my father's company dinner.
I thought about her at my college graduation, crying in a way she would have denied if anyone mentioned it afterward.
I thought about her voice through the back door.
*Your wife is only useful for giving birth and washing dishes.*
People are rarely only one thing.
That had always made everything harder.
I picked up my phone and called Amy.
"It's moving forward," I said.
"Formal charges this week."
A breath on the other end.
"Okay."
"How are you?"
"I'm okay.
Frederick ate his whole lunch." A small pause.
"Connor, I don't want to celebrate this."
"I know."
"I just want it to be over."
May you like
"It will be," I said.
"Soon."
