“It matches a transaction that went through Donald Vance’s brokerage firm.”

“Vance is Dorian’s broker,” I said.

“Exactly,” Mr. Voss replied.

“Vance has been handling all the property listings for the desert acreage.”

“He’s the one who cleared the titles for Dorian.”

“But those titles shouldn’t have been clear,” I said.

“They weren’t,” Mr. Voss said.

“Vance used a forged power of attorney to bypass your father’s estate trust.”

A pair of bright headlights suddenly rounded the curve of the mountain road.

The high beams blinded me for a second.

The vehicle was moving fast, its tires squealing on the asphalt before hitting the dirt driveway.

It was a white Lexus SUV.

I knew that vehicle.

It belonged to my mother.

The SUV screeched to a halt right behind the sheriff’s car.

The driver’s side door flung open.

My mother stepped out, her expensive wool coat wrapped tightly around her shoulders.

Her hair was perfectly styled, but her face was pale and frantic.

From the passenger side, Brielle climbed out.

Brielle was clutching her leather purse, her heels sinking into the soft dirt.