Hale’s mouth opened.
Nothing came out.
I looked at him.
Then at Vanessa.
Then at the property agreement bearing a dead signature from an absent notary.
Something was wrong.
Bigger than Daniel.
Bigger than the house.
I reached for the third flash drive.
Judge Mercer noticed.
“What is on that one?”
“I’m not entirely sure.”
That was the first thing I had said all morning that surprised him.
“You brought evidence you haven’t reviewed?”
“I reviewed some of it.”
“How did you obtain it?”
“My husband left it for me.”
Daniel looked up.
Vanessa stopped breathing.
Judge Mercer frowned.
“Your husband died seven months ago.”
“Yes.”
“Then what does it contain?”
I looked at the drive.
“Arthur was concerned about something before he died.
At the time, I thought he was becoming suspicious because of his medication.”
The words hurt to say.
For months, that thought had bothered me.
Arthur had been secretive during his final weeks.
He stayed awake late.
Printed documents.
Made calls from the garage.
Once I found him sitting at his desk at two in the morning with files spread around him.
“What are you doing?”
I had asked.
He closed the folder.
“Making sure you’re protected.”
“From what?”
He smiled.
“People who think widows are easy.”
I thought he meant scammers.
Contractors.
Telemarketers.
Perhaps even Daniel.
Arthur knew our son had debts.
He knew Daniel resented how carefully I controlled my money.
But I had not understood the extent of it.
Three days before Arthur died, he handed a sealed envelope to our longtime neighbor, Thomas Greer.
“Give this to Eleanor if anybody tries to take the house.”
Thomas called me the morning after Daniel filed the guardianship petition.
Inside the envelope was the third drive.
And a note.
Four words.
TRUST NO COURT PETITION.
I had not shown that note to anyone.
Not yet.
Judge Mercer asked again.
“What is on the drive?”
“Files concerning guardianship cases.”
His expression tightened.
“Whose cases?”
“Seventeen elderly property owners in this county.”
