Vance leaned forward, resting his forearms on his desk.

“What did she say?” he asked.

“She threatened me,” I said. “She said if I brought these papers to court, they would frame me for the insurance fraud.”

“Let’s see what you brought,” Vance said, reaching out his hand.

I popped the brass latches on the briefcase.

The sound was sharp and loud in the quiet office.

I pulled out the thick stack of financial documents and laid them on his desk.

“This is the paper trail from the night of the fire,” Marisol said, pointing to the top sheet.

“Derek filed the claim while Elena was in a medically induced coma,” Marisol explained.

Vance picked up the document, his eyes scanning the lines quickly.

“The signature at the bottom,” Vance noted. “It says Elena Lattimore.”

“It’s a forgery,” I said. “I was on a ventilator that day.”

I pulled out the certified hospital records and placed them next to the signature.

“Here is the daily medical log,” I said. “I was unconscious.”

Vance compared the date on the insurance claim with the date on the ICU log.