Nine years.
Christmases ignored.
Birthdays unanswered.
One funeral attended from the back row.
And now, standing in the fading sunlight beside a frightened mother and her child, Clay realized that the man he'd spent years refusing to call might be the only person capable of answering his question immediately.
He pressed the number.
The phone rang.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
"Clay?"
His father's voice had aged.
That was the first thing Clay noticed.
"Yeah."
Silence.
"Are you all right?"
Clay almost laughed.
Nine years reduced to four words.
"I need you to check something."
Another silence.
Then his father's professional voice returned.
"What?"
Clay read the case number.
There was the faint sound of typing.
"Where did you get this?"
"Doesn't matter."
"It matters if—"
"Dad."
Clay closed his eyes.
"Please."
That word changed the conversation.
"Give me a minute."
More typing.
Thomas began pacing.
Megan watched Clay.
Danny held his mother's hand.
Finally, Clay's father spoke.
"There is no emergency possession order under that case number."
Clay looked at Thomas.
Thomas stopped moving.
"What is it?"
"A civil petition filed three weeks ago."
"Was it granted?"
"No."
"Judge sign anything?"
"No."
Clay looked at the document.
"What about Evelyn Ross?"
The silence on the phone became different.
"Why?"
"Her notary seal is on it."
"Clay..."
"What?"
"Evelyn Ross was terminated last month."
"For what?"
"Fraudulent notarizations."
Clay stared directly at Thomas.
His father's voice hardened.
"If you are holding a document bearing our firm's letterhead and Ross's notarization that represents itself as a signed judicial order, photograph every page immediately."
Thomas heard enough.
"Give me that."
He reached for the papers.
Clay stepped back.
"No."
"Those belong to me."
"Not anymore."
Thomas's face went pale.
Clay raised his phone and photographed the pages.
Thomas moved forward again.
Clay lowered the phone.
"Don't."
Thomas stopped.
Clay spoke into the phone.
"Dad, one more question. Who handled the Vale estate?"
The answer came immediately.
"Arthur Vale?"
Megan looked up sharply.
"Yes."
Clay's father paused.
"I did."
Everything became still.
Clay stared at the phone.
Megan stared at Clay.
Thomas looked as though someone had removed all the air from his lungs.
Clay slowly asked:
"You drafted Arthur Vale's will?"
"I did."
Megan covered her mouth.
Clay's father continued.
"And unless a court has invalidated it without my knowledge, the residence and all attached acreage passed into a trust for Arthur's son."
Danny.
Clay looked at the boy.
Thomas suddenly turned toward his car.
Clay's voice stopped him.
"Where are you going?"
Thomas froze.
Clay lowered the phone.
"The house isn't Megan's."
Thomas slowly looked back.
Clay continued.
"It's Danny's."
Megan began crying.
Not from fear this time.
From relief.
Clay's father was still speaking.
"Clay, listen carefully. Arthur was extremely concerned during the final months of his life."
"About Thomas?"
A pause.
"Yes."
Thomas shouted:
"This is insane!"