Chapter 8 - Cornering the Rat
Mason’s office was located in a shabby commercial strip on the industrial side of East Nashville.
When Detective Miller and two local patrol units pulled up behind his building, Mason was already loading cardboard boxes into the trunk of his battered pickup truck. He looked up, his face turning the color of skim milk as Miller stepped out of her cruiser with her badge displayed.
"Mason Bradley, you're under arrest for wire fraud, identity theft, and conspiracy to commit grand larceny," Miller announced, her voice echoing across the gravel parking lot.
"This is harassment!" Mason yelled, dropping a box as the officers moved in, clicking the cuffs around his wrists with practiced efficiency. "Aunt Teresa told me the money was a loan! I didn't know anything about forged signatures!"
"Save it for the judge, Mason," I said, stepping up to the side of his truck and looking down at the open boxes. They were filled with corporate ledgers, checkbooks, and hard drives.
As the officers hauled Mason toward the back of the cruiser, one of the cardboard boxes tipped over, spilling its contents onto the gravel. A bright pink sticky note caught my eye.
I bent down and picked it up.
It was in my mother's handwriting.
*“Keep Connor distracted with the baby and the clinic bills. Once the deed transfer is finalized on Friday, he won't have the legal standing to challenge the commercial mortgage. We own him.”*
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I stared at the note for a long time, letting the last remaining shreds of familial loyalty turn to ash inside my chest.
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