Three Suitcases Left in the Rain and Nineteen Million Dollars in Cancun
“Sable is in a panic,” he said, tapping his foot against the tire of his car. “She says the lawyer you hired is trying to ruin us. If you force this audit, the bank might call in the business loans.”
“The business loans are already past due, Nathan,” I said.
“We can fix it,” he said, his voice cracking slightly as he took his hands out of his pockets and reached toward me. “If you just sign the quitclaim deed, we can sell the guest cottage and clear the debt. We can all move back into the main house together.”
I looked at my son, seeing the lines of exhaustion around his eyes, and felt a cold weight settle in my chest. He was still trying to shield the woman who had locked his own mother in a garage room.
“Sable forged your signature on an eighty-four thousand dollar loan, Nathan,” I said.
He went entirely still, his arms dropping to his sides. “What are you talking about?”
“The bank draft has already cleared,” I said, my voice quiet and steady. “The forensic audit is underway. The court will have the documents by Friday morning.”
