Chapter 3 - THE SIGNATURE
The storage company didn't exist.
I checked.
Then I checked again.
No business license.
No address.
No phone number.
Nothing.
Margaret had given me a fake name because she thought I wouldn't verify it.
That told me the red folder mattered.
So I waited until everyone went to bed.
At 1:17 a.m., I went downstairs.
The house was silent.
I knew exactly where Margaret kept the key to her bedroom desk.
Her jewelry box.
Inside the jewelry box was a tiny brass key.
I took it.
I opened the desk drawer.
Empty.
The red folder was gone.
I heard a floorboard upstairs.
I closed the drawer.
Then I saw movement reflected in the dark window.
Paige.
Standing behind me.
She was holding a glass of water.
"You scared me," she said.
I turned.
"So did you."
She laughed nervously.
"What are you doing down here?"
"Couldn't sleep."
She looked at the desk.
"Mom keeps private things there."
"I know."
Silence.
Then she smiled.
"How's Gwen?"
"Getting treatment."
Paige rolled her eyes.
"You know she's exaggerating, right?"
I said nothing.
She continued.
"She always wants attention."
I stared at her.
"You think cancer is attention?"
She shrugged.
"I think Gwen has always manipulated you."
Something broke inside me.
But I kept my voice calm.
"Good night, Paige."
She walked away.
I waited until she disappeared.
Then I noticed the glass she had set on the counter.
It contained no water.
It smelled faintly of whiskey.
That was when I realized she hadn't come downstairs for a drink.
She had come to see what I was looking for.
The next morning, I called Daniel.
"I think they're moving documents."
"Then stop asking questions in the house."
"What should I do?"
"Become invisible."
I understood.
So I did.
For the next three days, I acted like nothing was wrong.
I ate breakfast with Margaret.
I smiled at Paige.
I thanked them for the house.
I talked about vacations.
I even asked my mother what she thought I should do with the military compensation.
She couldn't stop smiling.
"Invest it wisely," she said.
"Any suggestions?"
"A good property."
I looked directly at her.
"Like yours?"
She froze.
Then laughed.
"You're funny."
I smiled.
That afternoon, Daniel called.
"We found something."
"What?"
"The power of attorney was submitted electronically."
"Can we trace it?"
"We already did."
My pulse quickened.
"Where?"
"From a computer registered to Mercer Estate Holdings."
My mother.
I closed my eyes.
"Anything else?"
"Yes."
"The signature was scanned."
"So?"
"It was copied from one of your old military documents."
My stomach dropped.
"Which one?"
Daniel gave me the date.
My enlistment paperwork.
That paperwork had been stored in a locked cabinet in the house.
Meaning someone had physically accessed it.
Someone close to me.
Daniel continued.
"There's more."
"What?"
"A second signature was used."
"For what?"
"Your medical insurance."
I sat down.
"What did they do?"
"Your mother canceled one of the supplemental policies attached to your account."
I stared at the wall.
"Why?"
"We don't know yet."
Then he said the words that changed everything.
"Caleb, we found a claim."
"What claim?"
"Your wife's."
"What about it?"
"It was rejected."
"Why?"
"According to the insurance company, the policy holder reported Gwen as an ineligible dependent."
I felt sick.
"Who reported her?"
A pause.
Then Daniel answered.
"Margaret."
I stopped breathing.
My mother had not simply refused to help Gwen.
She had actively interfered with her medical coverage.
I looked toward the hallway.
Gwen stood there.
She had heard enough.
Her face crumpled.
"I knew it."
I stood.
"Why didn't you tell me?"
"Because you were deployed."
"You could have called."
"I did."
My throat tightened.
"Every night," she whispered. "For weeks."
I remembered those calls.
Or what I thought were calls.
Sometimes my phone would show nothing.
Sometimes I'd receive a short text from Gwen saying she was tired and going to bed.
I had always assumed she didn't want to distract me.
But now I understood.
Someone had been blocking her.
Daniel's voice came through the phone.
"Caleb?"
"I'm here."
"We also found something in the carrier records."
"What?"
"Someone accessed your military account from a domestic IP address."
My blood ran cold.
"When?"
"About eight months ago."
"Who?"
"We're working on attribution."
I looked at Gwen.
She whispered, "Paige."
I stared at her.
"Why?"
She shook her head.
"I don't know."
That evening, I waited.
At 10:30 p.m., Paige left the house.
I followed from a distance.
She drove to a downtown hotel.
Not a bar.
Not a restaurant.
A hotel.
She went inside.
I parked across the street.
Twenty minutes later, Margaret arrived.
They met in the lobby.
Together.
I took pictures.
Then Paige handed my mother a thick envelope.
Margaret opened it.
She counted the contents.
Cash.
Thousands of dollars.
My mother's face looked satisfied.
Then she gave Paige something.
A flash drive.
Paige tucked it into her purse.
I took another photograph.
Then something unexpected happened.
A man entered the lobby.
Both women immediately turned toward him.
They looked afraid.
He walked straight to their table.
And when he sat down, Margaret reached across and said something I couldn't hear.
The man answered.
But even through the glass, I could read his lips.
"He knows."
Margaret shook her head.
The man pointed toward my photograph.
Then I realized something terrifying.
He wasn't looking at them.
He was looking directly at my car.
At me.
May you like
He stood.
And started walking outside.
