“Your father made a threat involving a promotion board,” she said. “Using his position. That’s not just family drama anymore. That’s official.”
Dalton called Mesa Title.
He put them on speaker. The woman who answered was named Brenda. She sounded nervous.
“Yes,” she said. “Mrs. Hollis came in back in April with a power of attorney. She wanted to execute a quitclaim deed on the property on behalf of her daughter. The house on Pinecrest.”
“And you didn’t process it,” said Dalton.
“No, sir. Our policy is that we don’t accept a general power of attorney for a real estate transfer when the owner is active military and deployed. It has to be a
specific one, with the property named. Also—” She hesitated. “Honestly, something felt off. Mrs. Hollis kept saying her daughter ‘wanted this’ but couldn’t explain why the daughter wasn’t calling us herself. And the husband kept answering questions for her.”
“So you asked for the owner to sign in person.”
“We did. We have an appointment set for today. Two o’clock.”
Dalton looked at me.
I looked at the clock on Captain Morales’s wall. It was 11:40.
“Keep the appointment,” Dalton said into the phone. “But move it. Tell Mrs. Hollis there’s been a change. The signing will take place at the property.”
“At the—”
“At the house,” Dalton said. “The owner would like to be home for it.”
My father thought I was bringing a notary.
That’s what my mother told him, after the title company called. I heard her through the basement ceiling at one o’clock, while I sat on the cot in my uniform with my grandfather’s letter folded in my breast pocket.
“She’s having them come to the house. Isn’t that sweet? I think she wants to make it special. For Chloe.”
