I opened the café door, hearing the little brass bell ring above my head.
And there she was.
The same nurse, sitting entirely alone at a dimly lit corner table.
She looked terrified, clutching a paper coffee cup with trembling hands.
I walked up slowly, sat down across from her, and asked:
“What the hell is going on? And why did you wait for so many days to contact me?”
Clara looked nervously at the window, wringing her hands together.
“I was terrified,” she whispered. “I actually fled the state right after I quit. But my conscience wouldn’t let me sleep, so I drove back today.” She took a deep breath. “I’ve been watching your house for hours, waiting for Melissa to be distracted so I could text you safely.”
“Why?” I demanded.
“Because your wife is selling your family’s estate,” she said, her voice shaking.
“What?” I gasped. “That’s impossible. Only I can sign those papers. The deed is strictly in my name.”
“She forged a Power of Attorney.”
“Are you absolutely sure about this?” I asked, my heart pounding.
“I heard her on the phone in the waiting room. She was confirming the wire transfer with a real estate attorney.”
