Chapter 3 - The Man With the Leather Folder
That afternoon, Grant showed up. Exactly like the note had said he would.
His car pulled up out front. He stepped out carrying a leather folder. From inside, I watched him take in the scene — my house painted black, neighbors still standing around outside, a patrol car in the driveway, Officer Doyle inside, and now Detective Marisol Ferreira, who'd arrived to review everything.
Grant stopped walking. Just for a second. But I caught it.
He'd expected to find a grieving woman, three days postpartum, alone in a quiet house. Instead he found an audience.
He forced himself forward and knocked. Officer Doyle answered.
"What happened here?" Grant asked, sounding genuinely thrown.
"Active investigation," Doyle said.
"Is she okay? I came to check on my sister-in-law and the baby."
"She's resting."
"I just need a few minutes." Grant lifted the folder. "There are some documents she needs to sign. Time-sensitive estate matters."
From the next room, I felt sick.
"If she doesn't sign today," he went on, "she could lose certain protections. I'm only trying to look out for her and the baby."
Time-sensitive. Today. For her protection. The exact phrases he'd been using on me for two straight months. Except now I heard every word of it differently.
Detective Ferreira stepped outside to talk to him. Eventually Grant left — but he took the leather folder with him.
That mattered.
Ferreira came back in and sat across from me. "I asked him to leave the documents so we could review them."
"He wouldn't."
"No. But I did see the top page."
I held Rosie tighter. "What was it?"
"A designation of guardianship and financial authority. Naming Grant." She leaned forward. "And he wanted your signature today."
May you like
I couldn't speak.
"I don't want to scare you more than necessary," she said carefully. "But based on what we know right now, somebody may have saved your life by painting this house black." She paused. "And I don't think you and your daughter should sleep here tonight."
