Then the second.
Then I looked at Rebecca.
“You’re sure?”
“Very.”
The document wasn’t from police.
It was from the bank.
The forged home-equity line had triggered a fraud investigation.
But that still wasn’t the twist.
Rebecca’s finger tapped another page.
“Tell him.”
I looked at the man.
He introduced himself as Martin Vale, attorney for Windlass Property Group.
I had never heard the name.
“Mr. Mercer,” he said, “did your late uncle ever explain the structure under which your house was purchased?”
I frowned.
“My uncle?”
Claire’s eyes flickered.
That was all I needed to see.
She knew something.
“No,” I said slowly. “He helped with the down payment when
Claire and I got married. Twenty thousand dollars.”
Martin shook his head.
“Not exactly.”
