Chapter 6: The Forger
Chapter 6: The Forger
Nathan was already pulling into the sheriff's office parking lot before Deputy Collins finished his sentence.
Forgery.
Identity theft.
Document fraud.
The words echoed in his mind.
If Victor Sloan had forged the deed transferring June's land, then Carl hadn't simply lied to the family—he had committed multiple felonies. And if a professional forger was involved, there had to be someone financing the operation.
Deputy Collins met Nathan in the evidence room.
On the metal table sat the red gasoline can recovered from the Reed farmhouse.
"We lifted three sets of fingerprints," Collins explained.
"One belongs to Carl."
Nathan nodded.
"The second belongs to one of the construction workers who built the new house."
"And the third?"
Collins handed him a file.
"Victor Sloan."
Nathan opened it.
The mug shot showed a man in his early fifties with close-cropped gray hair, sharp blue eyes, and a scar running from his left ear to his jawline.
"He's been arrested four times," Collins said.
"For forgery?"
"Mostly."
Nathan scanned the report.
Counterfeit deeds.
Forged wills.
Fake power-of-attorney documents.
Identity theft.
Nathan looked up.
"He's exactly the kind of person who could fake my mother's signature."
Collins nodded.
"That's what worries me."
"What else?"
The deputy hesitated.
"Victor was released from prison eighteen months ago."
Nathan waited.
"No one's been able to locate him since."
Nathan drove directly to the county courthouse.
He requested every public filing connected to the transfer of June's property.
The clerk recognized him immediately.
"I've got those copies ready."
Nathan thanked her and sat at a nearby table.
He compared the forged deed with older documents carrying his mother's genuine signature.
The differences became obvious.
The real June Reed always crossed the letter J with a long sweeping stroke.
The forged signature barely crossed it at all.
Her real signature leaned slightly to the right.
The fake leaned left.
The spacing between her first and last name was different.
To most people, the signatures looked identical.
To Nathan, who had watched his mother sign birthday cards and school permission slips his entire childhood, they looked like two different people.
He carefully photographed every page.
As Nathan stepped outside, someone called his name.
"Mr. Reed?"
He turned.
A woman in her early sixties stood beside a silver sedan.
She looked nervous.
"My name is Helen Brooks."
Nathan waited.
"I worked at First County Bank until I retired."
"What can I do for you?"
Helen glanced around the nearly empty parking lot.
"I heard you came home."
Nathan nodded.
"And I think you deserve to know something."
She reached into her purse and removed a small notebook.
"I wasn't supposed to keep notes."
Nathan frowned.
"What kind of notes?"
"The kind that help people sleep at night."
She handed him the notebook.
Inside were handwritten dates.
Transfer amounts.
Confirmation numbers.
Nathan's eyes widened.
They matched his monthly payments almost perfectly.
"What is this?"
"I worked the teller window."
Nathan looked at her.
"I processed many of your transfers."
He continued reading.
Most entries ended with the words:
Deposited into Carl Reed's account.
Nothing surprising.
Until the final page.
One entry was circled in red.
$12,000 Transfer
Nathan froze.
The same transfer he had never authorized.
Helen pointed to the date.
"I remember this one."
"Why?"
"Because something felt wrong."
Nathan looked up.
"What happened?"
"The transfer wasn't processed electronically."
"It wasn't?"
She shook her head.
"It arrived as a paper authorization."
Nathan frowned.
"I never mailed anything."
"I know."
Helen took a slow breath.
"The signature looked... strange."
Nathan's pulse quickened.
"Who approved it?"
She looked down.
"The branch manager."
"Do you remember his name?"
Helen nodded.
"Frank Delaney."
Nathan wrote it down.
"Where is he now?"
"He retired six months later."
Nathan left the courthouse with more questions than answers.
Someone had forged a bank authorization using his name.
Someone inside the bank had approved it.
And somehow twelve thousand dollars had disappeared into Carl's account.
His phone buzzed.
Emily.
"You need to come over."
"What happened?"
"It's your mom."
Nathan's heart sank.
"Is she alright?"
"She's remembering things."
Nathan arrived at Emily's farmhouse twenty minutes later.
June sat at the kitchen table staring at an old family photo album Emily had found in storage.
She looked up as Nathan entered.
"I remembered something."
Nathan sat beside her.
"Take your time."
She touched a photograph of Nathan's father standing beneath the large oak tree in the north field.
"There was a meeting."
"What meeting?"
"The night before your father died."
Nathan leaned closer.
"Who was there?"
"Your father."
"Carl?"
She nodded.
"And another man."
"Do you remember his face?"
She closed her eyes.
"He wore a dark suit."
Nathan immediately thought of Richard Holloway.
"What happened?"
"They argued."
"About the land?"
"Yes."
Nathan waited.
"Your father kept saying..."
She struggled to remember the exact words.
"'As long as I'm alive... no one touches that field.'"
Nathan felt a chill run through him.
"What did Carl say?"
June's expression darkened.
"He told your father..."
She swallowed hard.
"...that he was standing in the way of everyone's future."
Nathan stared at the photograph.
His father had died the very next morning in what everyone believed was a logging accident.
For the first time in twenty years...
Nathan wondered if it had really been an accident at all.
That evening, Nathan spread every document across Emily's dining room table.
The forged deed.
The fake bank transfer.
The mysterious physician's statement.
The development company's interest.
The old newspaper article.
His father's hidden map.
One name kept appearing around every clue.
Richard Holloway.
Nathan searched the internet.
Horizon Valley Development looked like an ordinary real estate company.
Until he searched deeper.
A series of business filings revealed something interesting.
The company had changed ownership twice in five years.
Its current majority investor...
Victor Sloan.
Nathan sat back in his chair.
The convicted forger wasn't just working for the company.
He owned part of it.
At that exact moment, another envelope slid through Emily's front mail slot.
Nathan picked it up.
No stamp.
No return address.
Inside was a single photograph.
It showed Nathan standing beside the hidden compartment in the farmhouse attic earlier that day.
Someone had been watching him.
May you like
On the back of the photograph, written in black marker, were six chilling words.
You're looking in the wrong field.
