Chapter 2 - The Digital Ledger of Betrayal
The text message on Brian’s water-logged phone was dated three days prior, sent at 4:12 p.m.—the exact day Mrs. Helen had completely vanished from the family network.
The sender was Laura.
“He signed the authorization at the bank using the power of attorney form we printed. The notary didn't check her signature against the old registration. It’s done. We own the eastern ridge tract. Just make sure she doesn't find her way back to the main road before the timber company wire clears on Monday. Dump her phone in the creek.”
Daniel stared at the glowing screen, the words burning themselves into his retinas. Deputy Miller stood beside him, his jaw clenched so tightly the muscles in his face pulsed.
"This is grand larceny, forgery, and attempted murder, Daniel," Miller said, his voice dropping to a harsh whisper so the nurses wouldn't overhear. "The eastern ridge tract... that's the twenty acres behind the town market. Your mother’s grandfather left that land to her with the strict condition that it remain a public space for the local farmers to sell their goods. It’s worth nearly three hundred thousand dollars if a commercial logging outfit gets their hands on the lumber rights."
"They didn't just steal the land, Miller," Daniel choked out, his voice cracking with an unbearable mixture of grief and rage. "They left her to die. They knew the storm was coming. They knew she didn't have her medication. They threw her in that pit like she was a bag of garbage so she wouldn't be able to contest the signature before the bank wire went through."
"I've already called the state police to flag Brian’s vehicle," Miller said, reaching for his radio. "But we have a problem. Your brother-in-law's uncle is the county magistrate. If Laura and Brian get to the courthouse in Lexington before we formally file these text messages into the state registry, they can claim the phone was stolen or hacked. We need the original, unedited digital ledger from the bank’s server to prove the power of attorney was a forgery."
Daniel looked back through the glass at his mother, who had fallen back into a fitful, pain-filled sleep. For months, he had blamed himself for being too far away, for focusing on his factory job in Detroit while his mother was being systematically hunted by the wolves in her own family. He had been blind to the greed hiding behind Laura’s glossy social media updates and Brian’s unearned luxury.
"Where is the regional branch manager?" Daniel asked, straightening his back, the exhaustion completely evaporating from his limbs, replaced by a cold, calculating resolve.
"Howard Vance runs the branch over in Hazard," Miller replied. "But he’s a close associate of Brian’s family. He won't open those digital logs for a local deputy without a supreme court subpoena, Daniel. And that takes forty-eight hours."
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"He'll open them tonight," Daniel said, wiping the dried mud from his hands onto his jeans. He pulled his own phone out, opening his personal banking app. "Because Howard Vance doesn't just manage the bank. He’s the lead investor in the timber company that’s supposed to send that wire transfer on Monday morning. And I happen to have the original, handwritten will my grandfather gave me before he passed—the one that states the ridge tract can never be sold without my co-signature."
Daniel turned toward the clinic doors, the freezing mountain wind howling through the lobby as he pushed them open. He didn't wait for his sister to arrive. He was going to cut the money lines before the vipers even realized their nest had been discovered.
