Chapter 15
"I'm sorry," she said.
It wasn't the easy sorry, the reflexive one.
She said it like she was handing something over, putting it directly into my hands, with no expectation of what I would do with it.
"I am genuinely sorry, Mom.
Not for how it turned out.
For what I did."
It was the most honest thing she had said all day.
I reached across the coffee table and put my hand over hers.
We sat like that for a long time, the two of us, while the afternoon light moved slowly across the water outside.
* * *
# CHAPTER 8: The Attorney's Office
Patricia Oakes had been a property attorney in Sandpoint for twenty-two years.
Her office was on the second floor of a building near the courthouse, with a view of Cedar Street and a waiting room that smelled like old carpet and good coffee.
She was sixty, direct, and had the kind of face that told you she had heard everything twice already and was only interested in the facts.
I sat across from her on Monday morning with the folder on her desk between us.
She read the management agreement twice.
She didn't speak while she read.
When she finished, she set it down and looked at me over her glasses.
"The signature is forged," I said.
"I can see it's not consistent with the signature on your deed." She tapped the folder.
"Where was the income deposited?"
"Into my son-in-law's personal account.
Connor Hale."
"Over what period?"
"April through July.
Four months.
Fourteen thousand dollars."
She wrote something on her notepad.
"And the father-in-law, Richard Hale — he arranged the management company?"
"He is effectively the management company.
Pend Oreille Property Solutions is registered to a business address that turns out to be his home."
Patricia set her pen down.
May you like
"He created a company in his own name, forged your signature on a contract authorizing that company to manage your property, and deposited the rental income into his son's account."
"Yes."
