“What kind of crime?”

“Grand theft,” I said. “And financial fraud. My husband forged my signature to steal my house.”

Deputy Vance buzzed me through a heavy security door into a small interview room.

The room smelled of stale coffee and floor wax.

There was a metal table and three gray plastic chairs.

I sat down and spread the papers from the manila folder across the table.

“These are the original title deeds to my family home,” I said, pointing to the yellowed parchment.

“And these are the loan application documents from yesterday.”

He leaned over, squinting at the signatures.

“That is my name,” I said. “But that is not my signature. My husband forged it.”

I unlocked my phone and tapped the audio file.

“I have a recording of my husband and his mother discussing the forgery,” I said.

I pressed play and set the phone on the metal table.

Rylan’s voice filled the small room, clear and arrogant.

“Calla doesn’t have the stomach for a fight,” his recorded voice said.

“Once the money clears, we’ll control the property, and she’ll have to play by our rules.”