Chapter 6 - THE SIGNATURE THAT WASN'T MINE
The forged signature bothered me more than the threat messages.
Threats could come from anger.
A forged signature required preparation.
Someone had practiced being me.
Detective Ruiz photographed every page before placing the settlement inside an evidence sleeve.
"Do not touch the signature area," she said.
I looked at the black curve of my name through the plastic.
It was frighteningly close.
The first letter leaned exactly the way mine did.
The tail of my last name swept beneath the line in the same unnecessary loop I had used since high school.
Whoever signed it had not guessed.
They had copied.
Daniel stared at the date.
"Three weeks ago."
I knew what he was thinking.
"The day I fell."
Ruiz nodded.
"According to the date, yes."
"But I was in the emergency room that night."
"That can be verified."
"Then why date it then?"
Ruiz turned another page.
"Because the agreement says you acknowledged receiving twenty-five thousand dollars on that date."
I almost laughed.
"I didn't receive anything."
"We'll check your accounts."
Daniel took out his phone.
"She uses the same bank as we do."
Ruiz looked at him.
"Don't confront Rachel about finances."
"I wasn't going to."
"You were thinking about it."
He put the phone away.
I kept staring at the signature.
Then I remembered the clipboard.
After my fall, a woman from Dad's insurance company had come to the hospital.
At least, she said she was from his insurance company.
She asked me to sign a statement confirming where the accident occurred.
I had been medicated.
My knee had been splinted.
Dad stood beside the bed telling me to hurry because he needed to get home.
I signed three pages without reading them carefully.
The memory made my skin crawl.
"There was paperwork at the hospital."
Ruiz immediately looked up.
I explained.
"Do you remember the woman's name?"
"No."
"Company?"
"I thought it was Dad's homeowner's insurance."
Daniel frowned.
"Dad doesn't have a separate agent who visits hospitals."
"How would you know?"
"I helped him renew the policy last year. Everything is through a national company."
Ruiz asked which hospital had treated me after the fall.
It was the same hospital we had just left.
She called security.
Within an hour, they confirmed a visitor had signed in under the name Melissa Grant on the evening of my fall.
No insurance company with that name had contacted the hospital.
The phone number on the visitor form was disconnected.
Security still had hallway footage.
Ruiz requested it.
While we waited, Daniel's attorney called with temporary news.
Priya had secured an emergency hearing for the following morning regarding Noah.
Until then, Daniel was advised to keep Noah in a safe location and avoid direct confrontation with Rachel.
Rachel had already retained counsel.
Of course she had.
According to Priya, her attorney claimed Daniel had abducted Noah after an argument and was using the birthday incident to alienate the boy from his mother.
Daniel stared at the phone.
"She attacked my sister in front of him."
Priya's voice remained calm.
"The video will matter. The police report will matter. Noah's statements will matter. But do not assume the judge knows any of this yet."
"How is she making me the bad guy?"
"Because whoever tells the story first often tries to choose the frame."
That sentence stayed with me.
Rachel had chosen the frame the moment the cake hit the floor.
You ruined my son's birthday.
Dad had chosen it when he lifted my crutch.
Apologize.
Now she was choosing it again in court.
Daniel ended the call and sat beside the window.
"How long has she been doing this?"
I knew he was not asking about the birthday party.
"I don't know."
"No."
He looked at me.
"How long has she been telling me a different version of everything?"
I hesitated.
There were dozens of small memories.
Christmas invitations I supposedly declined.
A family dinner Daniel thought I had skipped because I was angry.
A weekend trip I was told had been canceled even though photographs later appeared online.
Times Rachel said Daniel was too busy to speak when I called.
Times Daniel later said Rachel told him I wanted space.
None of those moments had seemed important alone.
Together, they formed a wall.
"Years," I said.
Daniel closed his eyes.
Noah sat on the bed drawing with hotel stationery.
He suddenly asked, "Is Mom going to be mad at me forever?"
Daniel crossed the room and sat beside him.
"Your mom's feelings are not your job to fix."
Noah nodded without looking convinced.
My phone buzzed again.
Unknown number.
Ruiz took it before I could touch it.
The message contained no words.
Only a photograph.
It showed the front door of Daniel and Rachel's house.
The photograph had been taken from inside the foyer.
Daniel stood so fast the chair tipped backward.
"Someone's in my house."
Ruiz was already calling patrol.
Noah stared at the image.
His face went pale.
"That's Mom's coat."
A black coat hung from the staircase banister in the photograph.
Daniel nodded.
"It could be Rachel. It's her house too."
Noah shook his head.
"No."
"What?"
"Mom doesn't hang it there."
He pointed to the bottom edge of the picture.
A pair of men's brown shoes was visible near the entry rug.
"Those are Grandpa's."
Daniel looked at Ruiz.
"Dad is in jail."
Ruiz's expression tightened.
She called the detention desk.
The answer came back two minutes later.
Dad had posted bond forty-five minutes earlier.
No one had notified us yet.
Daniel swore.
Ruiz sent units to his house.
By the time they arrived, nobody was there.
The front door was unlocked.
The home security system had been disabled using Rachel's code.
The office had been searched.
A desk drawer had been forced open.
Nothing expensive was missing.
Only one object appeared to be gone.
A small fireproof document box Daniel kept beneath his desk.
He used it for passports, birth certificates, and tax records.
There was one other thing inside.
"Mom's death certificate," Daniel said.
I frowned.
"Why would anyone want that?"
"I don't know."
Then Noah looked up from the bed.
"Grandpa needed it."
Daniel turned slowly.
"How do you know?"
"I heard him ask Mom where Dad kept Grandma's death paper."
Daniel knelt in front of him.
"When?"
"At breakfast yesterday."
"What did Mom say?"
Noah thought carefully.
"She said Uncle Martin already had one, but Grandpa said he needed the one with the raised stamp."
Ruiz wrote the sentence down word for word.
My stomach tightened.
"Certified copy."
Daniel looked at me.
"For what?"
Ruiz answered this time.
"A certified death certificate can be required for property transfers, probate filings, bank matters, insurance claims, and other legal transactions."
"So they're still trying to move something."
"Possibly."
Her phone rang.
She listened, then looked at me.
"Hospital security found the visitor footage from your fall."
She opened the video link.
A woman in a gray blazer appeared on the screen walking toward my hospital room with a clipboard.
I recognized her immediately.
Not because I knew her as Melissa Grant.
Because I had seen her two days ago standing beside Rachel at the birthday party.
May you like
She was Rachel's cousin, Beth.
And she was the woman who had spent the entire attack staring into her coffee and pretending she saw nothing.
