Chapter 1 - The Man at My Gate
The locksmith had one boot through my gate when the sheriff’s cruiser came sliding over the frozen cattle guard.
That was the first five seconds.
The second five were better.
My father turned around, saw the badge, and said, “Officer, thank God. My daughter is having some kind of episode.”
I watched all of it from my kitchen window with one hand wrapped around a mug I had forgotten to drink from.
Snow drifted sideways across Juniper Ridge. The ranch house creaked around me, old wood shrinking in the cold. On the security monitor, my father, Wade Mercer, stood in a camel coat that cost more than my first car. My stepmother, Denise, had both arms folded under a cream puffer jacket. My brother, Cole, kept pacing near a black SUV.
Beside them stood a woman in a red wool coat holding a leather portfolio.
The realtor.
And kneeling at my gate was a locksmith with a drill.
Sheriff Ben Talley got out of his cruiser slowly. No drama. No hand on his weapon. Just a big man in a brown winter jacket taking in five people where five people had no business being.
“Morning,” he called.
Dad pointed toward my house.
“I own an interest in this property. We have a closing scheduled.”
Sheriff Talley glanced at the NO TRESPASSING sign. Then at the chain. Then at the locksmith.
“You have a court order?”
Dad’s mouth tightened.
“We don’t need one.”
The realtor looked at him.
That tiny look was the first crack.
I picked up my phone and called Leah.
Major Leah Ruiz answered on the second ring.
“You recording?”
“Three cameras and my phone.”
“Good. Don’t go outside yet.”
“I wasn’t planning to.”
“Did anyone touch the lock?”
I looked at the monitor.
The locksmith’s drill was still resting against the steel shackle.
“He did more than touch it.”
Leah exhaled.
“Then let the sheriff do his job.”
Outside, Dad was getting louder.
“My daughter is emotional. She bought this place after some family disagreement and now she’s pretending it has nothing to do with us.”
The sheriff looked toward the house.
Then his radio crackled.
He listened.
His eyebrows moved.
Only a little.
When he looked back at Dad, his voice changed.
“Mr. Mercer, county dispatch says the deed holder already called this in thirty-two minutes ago.”
Dad froze.
I hadn’t called dispatch.
Sheriff Talley turned toward the realtor.
“Ma’am, who told you this property was available for sale?”
The woman swallowed.
“Mr. Mercer did.”
Cole stopped pacing.
Denise whispered something to Dad.
And then the realtor opened her portfolio.
“I also have a signed authorization from the owner.”
My stomach dropped.
Leah’s voice came through my phone.
“Nora?”
“I’m here.”
“Do not react until you see that paper.”
The realtor pulled out a document.
Even through the camera, I recognized the signature at the bottom.
Mine.
Except I had never signed it.
And Dad was smiling.
That was when I realized this wasn’t a bluff.
Somebody had built paperwork around a lie.
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