He made it sound like — like we were just correcting something unfair."
"That house was never my father's," I said.
"I bought it with my own money after he d*ed.
It had nothing to do with his estate."
"I know that now."
"Did you know it then?"
Mason looked at the table.
"I thought — Richard seemed so sure.
And he had documents.
Old letters.
Things that looked official."
"What kind of letters?"
"Letters from your dad.
Saying he wanted Teresa to have the house when he was gone.
Saying he'd set it aside for her." Mason finally looked up.
"But Connor — your dad d*ed before he bought anything.
Before you had any house.
Richard must have written those letters himself."
I let that land.
My uncle had forged letters in my father's name.
Used a d*ad man's voice to convince a grieving woman that she had been cheated by her own son.
"Where is Richard now?" I asked.
"I don't know.
He stopped answering two days ago." Mason's jaw tightened.
"I think he knew the plan was falling apart.
I think he was going to let me and your mother take the fall."
"And the deed?
Who forged my signature?"
Mason looked at the wall.
"Richard had someone.
I never met them.
He just told me to carry the folder to the party and keep it safe until your mother gave the word."
"What word?"
"She was going to ask you to sign something.
She had a story ready — something about a family trust, updating records.
If you signed, they'd swap the pages.
If you didn't, the forged version was the backup." He exhaled.
"I didn't think you'd come home early."
"It's my house," I said.
"And it was my son's birthday."
Mason had nothing to say to that.
---
Dennis arrived forty-three minutes after I called him.
He sat with Harlow for twenty minutes, reviewed the forged deed, and came out with his reading glasses in his hand and an expression I had learned to read over four years: controlled anger.
"There's a second document," he said.
"Filed six days ago with the county recorder's office.
A quitclaim deed.
Different from the one Mason was carrying.
This one has a notary signature that checks out — but the notary is Richard Calloway's neighbor.
We're pulling her statement now."
"They already filed something?"
"They tried to.
The county flagged it because your mortgage lender's name was missing from the transfer.
Standard review process.
It's been sitting in a queue." Dennis put his glasses back on.