“If you want to avoid a maximum security facility,” her lawyer told her, “you need to tell them everything.”

“Now, Stephanie.”

Stephanie wiped her nose with the back of her hand, looking up at Vance.

“He has a safe box,” she said, her voice shaking.

“In the bank on Brickell Avenue.”

“What’s in the box, Stephanie?” Vance asked, leaning forward on his elbows.

“The power of attorney documents,” she said.

“The ones he forced her to sign when she was on the pain medication in the hospital.”

“And the transfer slips.”

She looked up at Vance, her eyes wide with fear.

“He wanted to take the condo too,” she said.

“He was going to sell it to a shell company he set up in Delaware.”

“I helped him with the notary stamp.”

“I forged the witness signatures on the deed transfer.”

Marisol exhaled a long breath next to me in the dark.

“That’s it,” she whispered.

“That’s the conspiracy charge.”

Inside the room, Stephanie’s lawyer patted her arm.

“My client is prepared to sign a full confession,” the attorney said.