There it was again.
The crack widening.
Samuel opened another folder.
“This is the draft power-of-attorney document. Mr. Bennett states the signature is forged. We have his true signature from notarized estate records. The difference is obvious. Officer, I recommend this be documented as suspected financial exploitation of a senior, attempted fraud, and identity theft.”
Melissa stood.
“I’m leaving.”
One officer shifted toward the door.
“You are free to leave, ma’am, but we need your current address and contact information.”
“I live here.”
“No,” I said. “You don’t.”
She looked at me then.
Really looked.
Until that moment, I had been an inconvenience. A wallet in slippers. A lonely old man she could flatter, mock, and eventually move aside.
Now she saw a witness.
And that frightened her.
Brian came toward me.
“Dad, please. Don’t do this.”
His voice cracked.
And God help me, it still hurt.
