Chapter 7 - THE MORNING SHOWDOWN
At 8:30 a.m., the rain had finally stopped, leaving behind a pale, cold sunlight that glinted off the wet pavement outside.
A large, yellow moving truck from a local rental company pulled up to the curb in front of my house.
Sitting in the passenger seat of the truck was Gerald Hart. He was wearing the same crumpled suit from the night before, his face dark, bruised-looking with exhaustion and rage. Beside the truck, a sleek black sedan pulled up—a unmarked patrol vehicle from the Portland Police Department's Financial Crimes Division, which I had called at six o'clock this morning after faxing over the forged quitclaim deed and the notary information.
Detective Vance, a sharp-eyed woman in a charcoal trench coat, stepped out of the unmarked car and walked up my driveway.
I met her on the front porch. Emma stood behind me through the glass door, wrapped in a blanket, holding a mug of warm tea with her uninjured hand.
"Ms. Moore?" Detective Vance asked. "I'm the officer assigned to your document fraud report."
"Thank you for coming so quickly, Detective," I said, handing her a clear plastic file folder containing the original forged quitclaim deed, my real passport and driver's license for signature verification, and the intake sheet from the shipping center notary, which I had managed to obtain via an emergency email request through the hospital's legal department.
Gerald stepped out of the moving truck, stomping up the driveway with two hired movers trailing behind him.
"What is the meaning of this?!" Gerald shouted, waving his arms toward Detective Vance. "This is a civil matter! My son lives here! My granddaughter lives here!"
Detective Vance turned calmly toward Gerald. "Mr. Gerald Hart?"
"Yes! I am Gerald Hart!" he declared loudly, trying to assume his old posture of authority. "And I am telling you, Officer, that my daughter-in-law is conducting an illegal eviction against her family!"
"Mr. Hart," Detective Vance said smoothly, pulling a blue-backed warrant from her coat pocket. "You are under arrest for Aggravated Identity Theft, First-Degree Forgery, and Attempted Real Estate Fraud."
Gerald froze. His mouth opened, but no sound came out.
"What?" Gerald stammered, looking frantically toward the house. "Daniel! Daniel, get out here!"
Daniel stepped out onto the porch, looking hollowed out, carrying two small canvas duffel bags. He wouldn't look at his father. He wouldn't look at me.
"Daniel, tell this cop that Rachel signed that deed!" Gerald demanded, his voice turning shrill, panicked. "Tell her you watched her sign it!"
Daniel stopped at the top of the porch steps. He looked at Detective Vance, then at the handcuffs hanging from her belt, and finally at Emma, who was watching through the glass door with her bandaged hand pressed against the frame.
Something in Daniel—some microscopic, long-buried remnant of a spine—finally snapped into place.
"She didn't sign it, Dad," Daniel said, his voice quiet, trembling, but loud enough for everyone on the street to hear. "You brought a woman named Brenda from the casino to pose as Rachel. I watched you pay her two hundred dollars in the parking lot."
Gerald’s face went entirely white. "You pathetic little traitor..."
"Mr. Hart, turn around and place your hands behind your back," Detective Vance instructed, stepping forward.
As the steel handcuffs clicked around Gerald’s wrists, Marlene rushed out of the front door, shrieking like a wounded animal, clutching her floral cardigan around her chest.
"Gerald! Oh my God, Gerald!" Marlene wept, lunging toward her husband.
"Ma'am, stay back," Detective Vance warned firmly.
Two uniform officers stepped up to secure Gerald in the back of the patrol car. Detective Vance turned back to me.
May you like
"Ms. Moore, we will need you and your daughter to come down to the precinct later today to sign the formal statements," Detective Vance said. "And the notary who stamped this document has already been brought in for questioning. She’s cooperating."
"Thank you, Detective," I said.
