Chapter 3: Eleven Names on a List
Daniel stayed on the phone for twenty-three minutes.
I know because I watched the clock on the microwave the entire time, stirring soup that had long since gone too hot.
He didn't pace.
He didn't raise his voice.
He just listened, asked short questions, and wrote things on the back of Evan's email printout in small, careful handwriting.
When he finally hung up, he set the phone face-down on the table.
"His name is Roy Cafferty," Daniel said.
"He was my contact at the Treasury field office when I was still in federal work.
He retired two years ago.
Now he consults for a title fraud task force."
"Title fraud," I repeated.
"It's more common than people think.
Someone targets a vulnerable property owner — elderly, recently hospitalized, cognitively impaired after a medical event.
They move fast, while the person can't fight back.
They use a corrupt notary to authenticate a forged signature, push the sale through before anyone notices, and split the proceeds."
I looked toward the hallway.
Mom was in the guest room.
I could hear the television, low.
"How many?" I asked.
That was what he'd said on the phone.
*How many?*
Daniel turned the printout over.
He had written a number in the margin, circled twice.
Eleven.
"Roy says the same notary stamp appears on eleven property closings in this county over the past eighteen months," Daniel said.
"All of them elderly sellers.
All of them sold below market value.
Seven of the sellers have since died.
Three have no known family.
Your mother is the only one with someone still looking."
The soup boiled over.
I didn't move to stop it.
"Evan knew," I said.
It wasn't a question.
"The agent on every one of those closings is the same person," Daniel said.
"A man named Curtis Preel.
Roy pulled his license history.
Preel had his license suspended in another state four years ago for misrepresentation in a senior care property sale." He paused.
"He got a new license here fourteen months ago."
"How does someone get a new license after that?"
"You apply in a different state and you don't disclose the suspension.
It works until someone checks." Daniel picked up his pen again.
"Roy is checking now."
I finally turned off the burner.
The kitchen smelled like scorched broth.
"Where does Evan fit?" I said.
"I don't know yet.
He could be the one who introduced Mom to Preel.
He could be splitting the proceeds.
He could be deeper than that." Daniel looked at me steadily.
"Or he could have been used too, and not want to admit it."
"He laughed at you on the phone."
"Yes," Daniel said.
"He did."
He picked up his phone again and opened a new contact entry.
"I need to call one more person," he said.
"A real estate attorney I know who has worked elder fraud cases.
Her name is Grace Holloway.
She's going to want to see everything Evan sent us."
He was already dialing when my own phone lit up on the counter.
It was a text from Evan.
*Tell your husband to back off.
This is a family matter.
You're going to embarrass Mom by dragging this out.*
I set the phone down without answering.
Then I walked to the guest room and opened the door quietly.
Mom was propped against two pillows, the television on but her eyes not really watching it.
She looked smaller than I remembered.
Her hands were folded in her lap the way they used to fold in church.
"Are you hungry?" I asked.
She looked at me for a moment.
"I didn't sign anything," she said.
"I told them.
I told the man at the hospital.
I said I wasn't ready to make decisions.
I said I needed to wait for you."
"I know, Mom."
"He said you already knew.
He said you and Evan had already agreed."
My chest went tight.
"Who said that?"
"The man with the clipboard," she said.
"He came to my room.
He was very polite.
He had a badge."
I kept my voice even.
"What did the badge say?"
She thought about it.
"It had a house on it," she said.
"Like a little logo.
And his name." She closed her eyes, trying.
May you like
"Curtis," she said.
"I think it said Curtis."
