Chương 12
Madison closed her eyes.
I gripped the edge of my car door.
Daniel asked, “Have you made any diagnosis of cognitive impairment?”
“No.”
“Have you discussed concerns of that kind with Mrs. Mercer?”
“No.”
“Did you authorize anyone to use your letterhead or signature for that purpose?”
“Absolutely not.”
His voice had become fully awake.
“Can you send me this document?”
“Yes.”
“Send it now.”
Daniel asked for an email address.
Dr. Kline gave one.
Then he said, “Margaret, when were you last in my office?”
“October.”
“For the flu shot?”
“And blood work.”
“Did anyone come with you?”
“No.”
“Did anyone request your records afterward?”
I looked at Madison.
She was staring at the ground.
“I don’t know.”
Dr. Kline went quiet.
Then he said, “My office had a records request in November.”
Daniel straightened.
“From whom?”
“I’m not looking at the chart, but I remember because the request was unusual.”
“What was unusual?”
“It asked for a letter regarding decision-making capacity.”
My skin went cold in a way the weather could not explain.
“Who asked?”
“I need to confirm before I say.”
Daniel nodded even though Dr. Kline could not see him.
“Understood.”
“I can access the portal from home.”
There was typing in the background.
Ethan looked at Madison.
She did not look back.
Dr. Kline returned.
“The request came through electronically on November twenty-second.”
He paused.
“It was submitted under Ethan Mercer’s name.”
My son went completely still.
“That’s impossible.”
Dr. Kline heard him.
“Is Ethan there?”
“Yes,” Daniel said.
Ethan stepped toward the phone.
“Doctor, I never sent that.”
Dr. Kline was quiet.
“The request included a signed authorization.”
Ethan’s face emptied.
“Can you see the signature?”
“Yes.”
“Is it mine?”
“I can’t authenticate signatures.”
“Does it look like mine?”
Daniel said, “Ethan.”
“I need to know.”
Dr. Kline hesitated.
“It looks like a full signature, not initials.”
Ethan turned slowly toward Madison.
She was already shaking her head.
“No.”
He stared at her.
“I did not do that.”
“Then who had my signature?”
Madison’s eyes moved toward the lender agreement in his hand.
Ethan followed her gaze.
His face changed.
“Peter.”
Daniel’s head lifted.
Ethan held up the term sheet.
“He had the signature page.”
Madison whispered, “Oh my God.”
This time nobody told her to stop saying it.
Daniel took the phone off speaker and stepped several feet away to speak privately with Dr. Kline.
Ethan and Madison stood facing each other.
The anger between them had thinned into something worse.
Fear.
“What did you send Peter?” Ethan asked.
Madison’s voice barely carried.
“I don’t know.”
“What did you send him?”
“Financial statements.”
“What else?”
“Trust summaries.”
“What else?”
“Copies of identification.”
My chest tightened.
“Whose identification?”
She looked at me.
“Yours.”
The snow seemed to disappear beneath my feet.
“You had a copy of my driver’s license?”
“From the Cape house closing packet.”
“That was three years ago.”
“I kept the file.”
“Did you send it to Peter?”
She began crying then.
Not loudly.
No dramatic collapse.
Just tears spilling down her face while she stood in the driveway and finally said, “Yes.”
Ethan looked as if she had struck him again.
“When?”
“November.”
“Why?”
“He said the lender needed identity verification for the succession file.”
“There was no succession file.”
“I know that now.”
“You sent him Mom’s ID.”
“Yes.”
“My signature.”
“Yes.”
“Trust information.”
“Yes.”
“Property schedules?”
Her silence answered him.
I closed my eyes.
For several seconds, I heard only the soft hiss of snow landing on my coat.
When I opened them again, Daniel was walking back toward us.
He ended the call.
“We are done here tonight.”
Ethan looked at him.
“What did he say?”
“Dr. Kline is preserving the request and notifying his practice administrator.”
“Was it really submitted under my name?”
“Yes.”
“And the authorization?”
“He’s sending a copy to your lawyer tomorrow.”
Madison wiped her face.
Daniel looked directly at her.
“You need counsel too.”
She stiffened.
“I have counsel.”
“Not a business lawyer.”
“I said I have counsel.”
“Then call that person before you contact Peter Vale, North Vale, your accountant, the White Plains office, or anyone else connected to these documents.”
Madison said nothing.
Daniel turned to Ethan.
“And you do the same.”
Ethan nodded.
I looked toward the house.
Through the front windows I could see Beverly moving around the dining room.
She had begun wrapping leftovers.
Harold was carrying plates into the kitchen.
Claire was unplugging the Christmas tree.
Life had reduced itself to small tasks while ours had become unrecognizable.
I opened my car door again.
This time no one stopped me.
Ethan stood a few feet away.
“Mom.”
I looked at him.
He shoved both hands into his pockets.
“I didn’t send that request.”
“I believe you.”
The relief on his face hurt me.
Then I added, “That does not erase the things you did send.”
His relief disappeared.
“I know.”
I nodded.
For once, neither of us tried to make the moment easier.
I got into the car.
Daniel walked toward his.
Madison remained in the driveway.
Ethan did not go back inside with her.
As I started the engine, my phone buzzed in the cup holder.
I glanced at the screen.
It was an email from Brighton Private Bank.
The subject line read URGENT SECURITY NOTICE.
I opened it.
The first sentence said an external party had attempted to initiate a trustee credential reset at 11:47 that night.
I looked through the windshield at Madison and Ethan standing under the falling snow.
Then I read the second sentence.
The request had originated from the White Plains office.
I read the sentence twice because my mind refused to accept that anyone would be foolish enough to keep trying after everything that had happened.
“Daniel.”
He had already opened his car door.
The tone of my voice made him turn.
I held up the phone.
He crossed the driveway quickly.
May you like
“What is it?”
I handed him the screen.
