My name is Clara.
Hearing Mom say it felt like a locked door had finally opened.
The officer asked whether Vanessa had ever threatened her.
Mom hesitated.
Vanessa stared at her.
That was answer enough.
Officer Brooks stepped between them.
Mom swallowed. “She said if I told Clara, she would put me in a nursing home and tell everyone I had dementia.”
Vanessa shouted, “That is not what happened!”
One renter came halfway down the stairs.
Marcus told everyone to remain calm.
Then my phone buzzed.
My attorney had emailed a scan of a document recorded with the county four months earlier.
A quitclaim deed.
It claimed I had transferred ownership of the house to Vanessa.
The signature at the bottom was supposedly mine.
I had been in Singapore on the date it was notarized in Washington.
I turned my screen toward Officer Brooks.
He read it twice.
Then looked at Vanessa.
