Several of my father’s suits still hung on the rack, looking like empty shells.

“They thought they would return after the transfer was complete,” I said.

“Gavin had already drafted the sale agreement for the downtown restaurant,” Daniel said.

“He was going to sell the land to a commercial developer.”

“The restaurant my grandfather built,” I said.

“Yes,” Daniel said. “But the papers were never signed by you.”

“The signature he forged was proved to be a copy from your old passport,” he added.

I walked to the window and pressed my hand against the cold glass.

I could see the lights of the coastal city in the distance, shining through the mist.

“I want Gavin’s things removed from this house,” I said.

“Every book, every piece of clothing, every document.”

“I will arrange for a moving crew tomorrow,” Daniel said.

“Have it sent to the police storage facility,” I said. “He can claim them when he is released, if he ever is.”

We walked down the long hallway to the library at the end of the corridor.