I reached back into my briefcase.

I pulled out a second document, this one much newer and printed on bright white paper.

“This is the power of attorney Graham filed with the court last month,” I said.

I laid it down next to the easement.

“And this is an affidavit from the handwriting expert at the state capital,” I said.

“He analyzed the signature on that power of attorney.”

“It’s a forgery.”

The room went completely silent.

The only sound was the wind shaking the heavy glass windows of the conference room.

Celeste’s hand went to her throat, her fingers clutching her gold necklace.

“That’s a lie,” Celeste whispered.

“I watched her sign it,” Graham said, his voice suddenly hollow.

“No, you didn’t,” I said.

“I was in Richmond the day this document was supposedly signed in Middleburg.”

“I have the hotel receipts and the toll records to prove it.”

I looked at Marisol.

“Graham signed my name himself,” I said.

“He used an old signature from a college loan document to copy it.”

Marisol stood up from the table.

She didn’t look at Graham or Celeste.