The courtroom emptied slowly after the judge issued the temporary order.
Nobody seemed eager to speak.
Derek stood beside his attorney, staring at the floor. Victor remained several feet behind him, his hands folded across his stomach. Thomas and Barbara sat motionless in the back row.
Sarah gathered our papers.
“We're not done.”
“I know.”
She looked toward the evidence bag.
“That's the important part.”
The fingerprint had not yet been identified. The investigator had only confirmed that it appeared on the original medical certification, directly beneath the doctor's signature.
The document itself was supposed to have been signed by Dr. Barrett before his death.
Someone had handled it afterward.
Someone had pressed a finger into the paper hard enough to leave evidence.
The investigator, Carson, met us in the hallway.
“Mr. Sterling.”
“Yes?”
“We're sending the print for comparison.”
“How long?”
“Depends.”
Sarah asked, “Can you tell whether it was placed there during the creation of the document or later?”
“Not yet.”
Carson lowered his voice.
“But there is something else.”
He opened his notebook.
“The paper itself is unusual.”
“How?”
“It wasn't printed recently.”
I frowned.
“What does that mean?”
“The document stock is older. The watermark matches a batch that was used by a medical practice years ago.”
Sarah's expression sharpened.
“Dr. Barrett's office?”
“We think so.”
I stared at him.
“So the paper may actually have come from the doctor's office.”
“That’s one possibility.”
“Which means someone had access to his old files.”
Carson nodded.
“Or obtained unused stationery.”
I thought about Victor.
About North Ridge.
About Derek.
Then something occurred to me.
“Was Dr. Barrett involved with Eleanor's care?”
“Yes,” I said before Sarah could answer.
Carson looked at me.
“Did he keep records?”
“Of course.”
“Where?”
“His office transferred them after his death.”
“To whom?”
I gave him the name of the medical group.
Carson wrote it down.
“We're going to check whether any of Dr. Barrett's old forms or records were removed.”
Sarah looked at me.
“This could establish where the document came from.”
“And who had access.”
“Exactly.”
We left the courthouse separately.
Sarah insisted I go home.
I didn't.
I drove straight to the cabin.
The temporary order meant nobody could sell it, mortgage it, rent it, or transfer control of it.
For the first time in days, I could walk through the front door without wondering whether someone would tell me I no longer belonged there.
The cabin smelled like dust and pine.
I walked into the kitchen.
A cardboard box still sat beneath the counter.
Thomas and Barbara had forgotten it.
I opened it.
Inside were two mugs, a blanket, and a framed photograph.
The photograph was of Thomas and Barbara when they were young.
I set it aside.
Then I noticed something tucked underneath the blanket.
An envelope.
It had my name on it.
Not typed.
Written.
I opened it.
There was one sheet of paper inside.
Arthur,
You should understand that this was never meant to hurt you.
I recognized Derek's handwriting.
I read the rest.
He claimed he had been trying to “protect the family” and said that the sale would have solved debts that threatened everyone.
He wrote that he believed the cabin would eventually become Claire's.
He called the paperwork “a way to make the transition happen sooner.”
Then came the sentence that bothered me most.
Victor told me you would never agree willingly.
I read that line again.
Victor.
Not Thomas.
Not the broker.
Victor.
I photographed the letter and sent it to Sarah.
She called immediately.
“Don't touch anything else.”
“I already opened it.”
“That's fine. Preserve the envelope.”
“It's Derek's handwriting.”
“I know.”
“Does that help?”
“It establishes his knowledge and intent.”
I looked around the room.
The furniture had been removed, but traces of the occupation remained.
A scratch on the floor.
A ring-shaped mark on the table.
A nail where someone had hung a calendar.
They had left evidence everywhere.
I went upstairs.
Eleanor's bedroom looked almost untouched.
Her cedar chest was still beneath the window.
I opened it.
Her sweaters were folded exactly as she had left them.
Underneath them was a small notebook.
I had forgotten it was there.
The first pages contained grocery lists.
Then notes about repairs.
Then a list of people who had visited the cabin.
I turned pages slowly.
One name appeared several times.
Victor Hayes.
The dates were from two years before Eleanor died.
I stopped.
Why had Victor been visiting?
The last entry said:
Victor came by again. Asked about Arthur's plans for the cabin. Strange conversation.
I sat on the edge of the bed.
Eleanor had noticed.
She had written it down.
I photographed the page.
Then another memory surfaced.
At the funeral, Victor had asked me whether I intended to keep the cabin.
I had thought it was ordinary conversation.
Maybe it wasn't.
Sarah arrived forty minutes later.
She read the notebook.
Her expression became very serious.
“Arthur, this changes the timeline.”
“How?”
“Victor's interest predates Derek's financial trouble.”
“So this wasn't only about Derek's company.”
“Maybe not.”
She turned another page.
There was another note.
Victor asked whether Claire had access to the trust documents.
Sarah looked at me.
“Did he ever have access?”
“Not that I know of.”
“But he was asking.”
“Yes.”
Sarah photographed the pages.
Then her phone rang.
She answered.
“Hello?”
She listened.
“Understood.”
She hung up.
“The fingerprint is back.”
I stood.
“Whose?”
She looked at me.
“They haven't identified it yet.”
My stomach dropped.
“But they found something.”
“What?”
“The print matches another latent print recovered from the property.”
“Which property?”
“The cabin.”
I stared at her.
“Where?”
“On the inside of the locked document cabinet.”
My chest tightened.
“That cabinet hasn't been opened in years.”
“Apparently someone opened it recently.”
“Who?”
“We don't know.”
Sarah showed me the photograph.
The cabinet lock had a fresh scratch.
The investigator believed someone had used a tool to force it.
Inside the cabinet were old trust records, tax returns, insurance documents, and Eleanor's original estate papers.
Someone had searched through them.
The investigator had found the same partial fingerprint on a folder containing the trust documents.
I thought about the U-Haul.
The forged deed.
The medical certification.
The power of attorney.
Someone had entered the cabin before Thomas and Barbara moved in.
Someone had searched the records.
Someone had needed information.
Sarah said, “We need to know who had access before the U-Haul arrived.”
I thought.
Then I remembered.
“Derek.”
“When?”
“He came here six weeks ago.”
“Why?”
“He said he wanted to check the dock.”
“Did he come alone?”
I hesitated.
“I don't remember.”
Sarah looked at me.
“That matters.”
I closed my eyes.
I remembered Derek's truck.
Then another vehicle.
A dark sedan.
I had assumed it belonged to a contractor.
Now I wasn't sure.
“Victor may have been with him.”
Sarah nodded slowly.
“Then we may have our timeline.”
My phone buzzed.
Carson.
He asked whether I could come to the station.
I looked at Sarah.
She already knew.
We left the cabin together.
At the station, Carson placed two photographs on the table.
The first showed the fingerprint recovered from the medical certification.
The second showed the partial print from the cabinet.
He placed them side by side.
“They match.”
I stared.
“Who does it belong to?”
Carson didn't answer immediately.
“We're still processing the database comparison.”
Then he added something else.
“We found a third print.”
“Where?”
“On the original letter you found at the cabin.”
My pulse quickened.
“Derek's letter?”
“Yes.”
“Same person?”
Carson nodded.
“The same partial print.”
I looked at Sarah.
Three places.
The medical certification.
The document cabinet.
Derek's letter.
All connected by one fingerprint.
Then Carson slid another photograph across the table.
It showed the fingerprint comparison report.
The identified person was listed beneath it.
I read the name.
Victor Hayes.
I sat back.
For several seconds, nobody spoke.
Then Carson said quietly, “We have a warrant request ready.”
Sarah closed her folder.
“For Victor?”
“For Victor's office and North Ridge.”
I looked at the report again.
Victor had not simply advised Derek.
He had touched the document.
He had accessed the trust records.
He had handled Derek's letter.
And now the investigators were going after the place where the paperwork had been created.
The cabin was no longer the scene of the crime.
It was the place where the crime had been uncovered.
Click here to continue reading: PART 10: The Search of North Ridge Found More Than Forged Papers, and One Folder Explained Why Victor Had Been Watching Eleanor Long Before Her Death
The U-Haul Was Already Half Empty When I Reached the Cabin, and the Man on My Porch Told Me the Property Was No Longer Mine
Part 9 of 40
