CHAPTER 6 — The Records
Daniel recovered faster than I expected.
"Harold. What a surprise." He smiled warmly and stepped aside. "Claire isn't really up for visitors. She's had a rough night."
"I'm sure she has," Harold said, walking past him without waiting for an invitation.
The woman with the badge followed.
"Detective Ana Morales," she said. "I'd like to speak with Mrs. Whitmore. Alone, if possible."
"That's not necessary," Daniel said. "My wife has a medical condition. Anything she says right now—"
"I'll decide what's necessary," the detective replied.
Megan pushed past them all and threw her arms around me. She was trembling.
"Claire. Oh my God. He told me you didn't want to see me. He said you'd been saying terrible things about me. He told me to stay away for your own good."
I held her and cried quietly into her shoulder, the way I had wanted to for two months.
Harold set his briefcase on the dining room table, right on top of Mr. Pierce's documents.
"Two days ago, my client called me," he said. "So I pulled the county property records for this address. Imagine my surprise when I found that a quitclaim deed transferring this house was submitted for recording sixteen days ago."
Mr. Pierce's head snapped toward Daniel.
"The recorder's office rejected it," Harold continued. "The notary stamp belonged to a notary whose commission expired last year. When the clerk called to verify, the notary said she had never met Claire Whitmore in her life."
The silence was so heavy I could hear the kitchen clock ticking.
"That must be a mistake," Daniel said.
"It's a forgery," Harold said. "And today's meeting was clearly an attempt to get a real signature to replace the fake one."
Mr. Pierce stood up abruptly and began gathering his folder. "I had no knowledge of any prior filing. I was told this was a voluntary restructuring. I'm withdrawing from this matter immediately."
"Sit down, Mr. Pierce," Detective Morales said. "You're not going anywhere just yet."
He sat.
Daniel turned to the detective, and his voice softened into the reasonable tone he used on everyone.
"Detective, I understand how this looks. But my wife is unwell. She's been hallucinating. That recording, if that's what this is about, was taken out of context. She hears things. She imagines conversations."
"Then a blood test will clear everything up," Detective Morales said. She looked at me. "Mrs. Whitmore, would you be willing to come with me to the hospital right now? Voluntarily."
"Yes," I said.
"She's not leaving," Daniel said.
Every head turned toward him.
He seemed to hear it himself, because he quickly added, "Not without me. I'm her husband."
"She's an adult," the detective said. "She doesn't need your permission."
I picked up my purse. My legs felt weak, but I stood straight.
As I passed him, Daniel caught my wrist. His fingers dug in hard, and his voice dropped so only I could hear.
"Think very carefully, Claire. Nobody believes crazy women."
May you like
I pulled my arm free.
"Then it's a good thing," I whispered, "that I recorded you."
