Chapter 4: The Man Behind the Signature
Denise stared at the document in my father's hand as though the name printed on it had appeared by magic.
“Your brother's name is on my daughter's car transfer,” Dad repeated.
“Explain that.””
Denise swallowed hard.
“Darren was helping me with some paperwork.””
“Paperwork?”” I stepped closer to the document.
“He submitted a transfer authorization using my name.””
“You don't know that,” Denise snapped.
“His email address is on the document!””
“An email address doesn't prove anything.””
My father placed the papers on the kitchen island, flattening them with both palms. The air conditioner hummed overhead, but the kitchen felt unbearably hot.
Darren Cole was Denise's younger brother. He was forty-one, drove a white pickup truck, and had a habit of appearing at family gatherings whenever someone mentioned money. He'd borrowed from my father twice, supposedly to expand a small transportation business, and both times had promised to repay him within six months.
As far as I knew, neither loan had ever been fully repaid.
“What does Darren have to do with my car?”” I asked.
Denise walked to the sink and filled a glass with water. Her hand trembled enough to make the water splash onto the counter.
“He handles financial paperwork for several people. I asked him a question about selling a vehicle.””
“Whose vehicle?””
“Yours.””
“Without asking me?””
“I thought I could arrange something beneficial for everyone.””
I stared at her.
“Did you tell him I agreed?””
She took a sip of water instead of answering.
My father pulled out a chair but didn't sit.
“Denise, did you give Darren access to my business account?””
“No.””
“Did you give him my banking credentials?””
“No!””
“Then how did an electronic payment get approved through a device the bank recognizes?””
She set the glass down too hard.
“I don't know, Marcus. I'm not a bank technician.””
“You seem to know a lot about this transaction for someone who knows nothing.””
Her face flushed.
“I was trying to solve a problem. That's all.””
“What problem?”” I demanded.
Denise looked at me, then at my father.
“I owed money.””
“To Darren?”” Dad asked.
“No.””
“Then who?””
She rubbed her forehead.
“A private lender. I borrowed money months ago, and the balance became more than I could manage.””
The admission left the kitchen strangely quiet.
Dad's voice softened, but only slightly.
“How much did you borrow?””
“It's complicated.””
“How much, Denise?””
She looked down.
“Forty thousand dollars.””
My father closed his eyes for a moment.
“Forty thousand?””
“It wasn't supposed to get this bad.””
“What did you spend it on?””
“Household expenses. Things that came up. I was going to pay it back.””
“With what?””
Denise's silence answered him.
I leaned against the counter, trying to put the pieces together. She had always seemed comfortable. Her clothes were expensive, the house was immaculate, and she never hesitated to criticize my spending. Yet beneath that polished appearance, she'd accumulated a debt large enough to frighten her into selling my car.
But that still didn't explain the SUV.
“Why did you buy Kaylee a ninety-six-thousand-dollar vehicle?”” I asked.
Denise turned toward me.
“I didn't buy it because I wanted to spend that much. The dealership offered a package, and I thought the numbers would work.””
“What numbers? You just admitted you owed forty thousand dollars.””
“I was going to use the money from your car to settle the lender. The SUV was supposed to be financed.””
Dad stared at her.
“Then why did you charge the entire purchase to my business account?””
“I didn't mean for that to happen.””
“You don't accidentally authorize a payment of nearly a hundred thousand dollars.””
Her voice rose.
“I said I didn't mean for it to happen!””
The sudden outburst made Kaylee appear in the kitchen doorway. She'd been standing in the hallway, listening.
“Mom,” she said quietly, “you told me the SUV was a gift.””
Denise looked at her daughter.
“It is.””
“But you said Dad knew about it.””
“I thought I could explain everything to him afterward.””
Kaylee's eyes filled.
“You let me believe he bought it for me.””
“I was trying to give you something nice.””
“You could have told me the truth!””
Denise reached for her, but Kaylee stepped back.
That small movement seemed to hurt Denise more than anything Dad or I had said.
My father returned his attention to the paperwork.
“I'm calling Darren.””
“Don't,” Denise said immediately.
He looked up.
“Why?””
“Because he's not involved in this the way you think.””
“Then he'll have no trouble explaining his role.””
She moved toward him.
“Marcus, please. Let me handle my family.””
Dad gave a humorless laugh.
“You involved your family when you used my account and sold my daughter's property. Now it's my business, too.””
He dialed the number printed on the document.
The call went to voicemail.
Dad left a brief message identifying himself and asking Darren to return the call immediately. Then he placed his phone on the counter.
For several minutes, nobody spoke.
I watched Denise pace between the kitchen island and the back door. She kept checking her own phone, opening messages, and locking the screen whenever anyone looked at her.
Finally, I asked, “Where is my Honda?””
She stopped pacing.
“I don't know.””
“You arranged the sale.””
“The dealership collected it.””
“Which dealership?””
“Prestige.””
“Then they should know where it is.””
She looked at me with open irritation.
“Nia, what do you want me to do? I can't magically put your car back in the garage.””
“I want my property returned.””
“And I told you I was trying to help.””
“You keep saying that as though it changes what you did.””
She turned away.
Dad's phone vibrated on the counter.
An incoming call.
*DARREN COLE.*
Marcus answered and immediately switched to speaker.
“Darren.””
“Marcus.”” Darren's voice sounded relaxed, almost cheerful.
“I got your message. What's going on?””
“I want to know why your email address appears on a vehicle transfer authorization for Nia's Honda.””
Silence.
Then Darren laughed nervously.
“It's a misunderstanding.””
“Explain it.””
“Denise asked me to help her with a transaction. She said Nia was aware of it.””
“I wasn't,” I said.
Another pause.
“Nia, I didn't know you weren't aware,” Darren replied.
“Your aunt—your stepmother—told me everyone had agreed.””
“Where is my car?””
“I don't handle the vehicles themselves. I only helped with the documentation.””
“What documentation?”” Dad asked.
“The transfer form. Some electronic authorization. Denise said she had permission.””
My father leaned forward.
“Did you verify that permission with Nia?””
“No, but—”
“Did you speak to her?””
“No.””
“Did you receive a signature from her directly?””
Darren hesitated.
“I received the documents I was given.””
“That wasn't my question.””
A faint rustling came through the speaker.
Then Darren said, “Look, Marcus, I was trying to help my sister. She told me she had an arrangement with you and Nia.””
My father glanced at Denise.
“What arrangement?””
“I don't know the details.””
“You submitted the paperwork. You should know what you submitted.””
Darren's voice hardened.
“I don't appreciate being interrogated over a favor.””
“Then answer the questions.””
The line went silent again.
Finally, Darren said, “I can send you what I have.””
“Do that.””
“And Marcus?””
“What?””
“You should ask Denise about the money she promised to repay me.””
Denise's head snapped up.
“Darren, don't you dare!””
But the call had already ended.
My father stared at the phone.
Then he slowly turned toward his wife.
“What money?””
Denise's lips parted.
Nothing came out.
Kaylee looked at her mother in disbelief.
“You said the lender was the problem.””
“It is the problem.””
“Then why does Uncle Darren want money from you?””
Denise grabbed her handbag from the chair.
“I need some air.””
Dad moved away from the doorway, letting her pass.
He didn't try to stop her.
Neither did I.
I watched her hurry across the hall and disappear into the bedroom, the heels of her shoes striking the hardwood floor.
Then my father picked up the transaction papers again.
“Darren says he received documents,” he murmured.
“If he sends them, we may finally know how this happened.””
I looked at the electronic signature on the page.
It was convincing enough to fool a dealership employee. It might even have fooled me if I hadn't known I never signed it.
“Dad, what if he has more than the transfer form?””
Marcus looked at me.
“What do you mean?””
“What if he has other documents with my name on them?””
Before he could answer, a notification appeared on his phone.
An email from Darren.
The subject line read: *Documents Denise Asked Me to Process.*
Dad opened it.
There were three attachments.
The first was the transfer authorization.
The second was a copy of the dealership's trade-in agreement.
The third was a document titled Limited Financial Authorization.
My name appeared at the top.
My father's face drained of color as he read the first paragraph.
Then he looked at me and said, “Nia, this document claims you authorized someone to access your personal financial records.””
I leaned over his shoulder.
At the bottom of the page was a signature that looked exactly like the one on the car transfer.
But this time, the signature wasn't the most disturbing part.
Beneath it was a date from six months earlier.
A date I remembered very clearly.
May you like
Because on that day, I had been sitting in a hospital waiting room with my father.
And Denise had been the only person at home with access to the documents I'd left in my bedroom.