“You and Aunt Claire planned this from the very beginning,” Megan said, her eyes locked on his face.

“Claire did what she had to do,” Ethan muttered. “The trust was falling apart.”

“She forged the 2018 amendment, didn’t she?” Megan asked.

“She had to,” Ethan said, his voice rising in irritation. “The old man was going to leave everything to Rose. We couldn’t let that happen.”

“And the transfer deed for Waverly Lane?” Megan pressed, her eyes wide. “The one you showed me yesterday?”

“I signed it,” Ethan said, a sharp, desperate laugh escaping his throat. “I copied her signature from the old tax returns. It was easy.”

I watched the screen of my phone through the thin fabric of my pocket.

The call was still active.

“And where is Aunt Claire now?” Megan asked. “Is she coming to help you?”

“Claire is already gone,” Ethan said, his eyes scanning the room wildly. “She cleared out the safe deposit box at three o’clock. She’s driving south on Route 9, heading for the border with the bearer bonds.”

He wiped his brow with the back of his sleeve, his breathing loud and shallow.