Chapter 5

Mara called before I could answer her message.

“The title company rejected the revision,” she said. “It remains on hold.”

“Then why send it?”

“Someone may be trying to create confusion, or hoping a different person will process it. I’ve notified the court and the investigators.”

I looked toward the stairs. Noah was asleep above me. It was almost midnight.

“They know we caught them,” I said.

“Yes.”

“Why keep trying?”

“That’s a question Ortiz will ask them. Tonight, keep the documents and get some sleep if you can.”

I couldn’t sleep. I sat in the kitchen with Mom until the sky lightened.

She told me about the year Curtis opened his shop. He had been excited and terrified, calling Dad’s old friends for advice. After the shop failed, he stopped answering Mom’s calls for weeks.

“I thought he was ashamed,” she said. “I never imagined he’d do this.”

“You’re not responsible for imagining it.”

“Neither are you.”

We were both trying to give the other a comfort we struggled to accept ourselves.

At nine, Mara obtained a temporary court order blocking any transfer of the house while ownership and authorization were investigated. She sent copies to the title company and the county office.

I read every page before I showed Mom.

“We can stay?” she asked.

“We can stay. Nobody can complete that sale while the order is in place.”

She closed her eyes. For the first time since Tuesday, her shoulders dropped.

Ortiz called that afternoon. Frank Dyer had identified Curtis as the person who recruited him. He said Curtis supplied the false identification and promised him money after closing. Frank also described Owen waiting outside the notary’s office.

Ortiz warned me the case would take time. Investigators still needed financial records and interviews. I told her about Vanessa’s message and the new filing; she had them both.

After the call, I drove to the park to meet Noah and Mom. Noah raced toward me with grass on his knees.

“Grandma says we can plant sunflowers behind the fence,” he announced.

“If she says so, we can.”

He took my hand and led me to a bare patch of ground where he had been planning the rows. Mom followed slowly, carrying his jacket.

I watched them argue gently about how much sunlight the plants would get.

This was what Vanessa and Owen had called a property deal. They had never seen Noah choose the sunniest spot for seeds.

The next day, Owen’s company announced it was ending the proposed purchase. Mara cautioned me that its withdrawal didn’t erase what had been attempted. We still needed the court to resolve the false papers and any claim they might create later.

Vanessa sent another message.

I know you hate me. I didn’t know Curtis planned to come to Noah’s school.

I believed she might not have known about that visit. She had known Noah’s name was on the notice to leave. I left the message unanswered.

On Friday, the day they had originally chosen for closing, I took Noah to the aquarium. Mom came too. We spent an hour watching him argue that the smallest fish was the bravest because it swam beside the sharks.

I checked my phone more than I wanted to.

No transfer happened.

We returned home with a stuffed turtle Noah had bought using his saved allowance. He put it on the couch beside the PS5.

“That’s his house,” he said.

I understood why he wanted the turtle to have one.

On Monday, Ortiz asked me to come to the station. She played part of a recorded interview with Frank. He said Curtis had told him I was aware of the sale and too embarrassed to sign in person because my family would be angry.

“How did he explain the fake ID?” I asked.

“He didn’t,” Ortiz said. “That’s one reason Frank’s account has to be tested against the other evidence.”

She showed me no more than she could share. Before I left, she said Vanessa had requested to speak with investigators again.

That evening, Mom found me staring at Dad’s photograph in the hall.

“He would have been angry,” I said.

“At what Curtis did? Yes.”

“At me for letting Vanessa close enough to find those papers.”

Mom took my hand.

“Your father let people into this house. Some disappointed him. He didn’t stop trusting everyone.”

I looked at the worn floorboards beneath us.

“I trusted Curtis too.”

“He’s your brother. You were allowed to.”

The next morning, Mara called. The revised closing paper hadn’t come from Vanessa, Owen, or Curtis.

It had been sent by someone using the name of a clerk at the title company.