Preston’s voice was careful, the way it gets when a man has found something he doesn’t want to say. “Walter, the file is thicker than it should be. Someone filed a deed transfer at the county office two years ago. It has your signature on it.” I set my cup down so hard the coffee jumped. “I never signed anything.”

“I know,” Preston said. “That’s why I’m worried. The transfer moved the Maplewood house out of your name and into Garrett’s. A loan was taken against it, and the bank mailed a default notice to the house last week.” Out my kitchen window, a car turned into my driveway. Garrett climbed out, and behind him came Allison’s father, holding a thick folder, staring straight at my front door. Then I heard him knocking, and calling my name.