“State troopers stopped Claire Bennett’s Mercedes on the shoulder of Route 9.”

“Just past the state line?” I asked.

“She didn’t make it that far,” Miller said.

“They boxed her in near the county quarry.”

“She had a black leather satchel in the passenger seat.”

“Was the money in it?” Megan asked, her voice quiet.

“It was packed with bearer bonds,” Miller said.

“Over eight hundred thousand dollars’ worth.”

“And a set of forged land deeds for this property.”

My knees felt weak, and I sat down on the edge of the sofa.

The sheer scale of the deception was dizzying.

My own family had turned my home into a crime scene.

“What happens to the house now?” I asked.

“It’s going to be a long process,” Daniel said, sitting opposite me.

“But the law is on your side.”

“A forged deed cannot convey title,” he explained.

“Once the state archives verify the signatures, the court will void the transfer.”

“But the money,” Megan said.

“The trust is empty.”

“Not entirely,” Daniel said.

He leaned forward, placing his hands on his knees.