Chapter 2: The Signature That Wasn't Hers
For several seconds, nobody moved.
Jasmine stood in the garage with her phone extended toward me. Felicia stared at the concrete. Outside, a delivery truck rumbled past our house, its ordinary noise sounding strangely distant.
I took the phone from my daughter.
“Where did this come from?””
“Uncle Derrick's girlfriend sent it to me,” Jasmine replied.
“She said I needed to stop pretending I didn't know what was happening.””
I enlarged the photograph.
The document stated that Jasmine had voluntarily transferred ownership of her Mercedes to Derrick Coleman in exchange for the settlement of a personal debt.
Below that was a second paragraph.
It claimed Jasmine had borrowed thirty thousand dollars from Derrick and agreed to repay him by surrendering the vehicle.
My daughter had never borrowed thirty thousand dollars from anyone.
She worked twelve hours a week at a bookstore and kept a spreadsheet of every dollar she earned.
When she was sixteen, she had returned a twenty-dollar bill to a cashier who accidentally gave her too much change.
Thirty thousand dollars?
Impossible.
“Jasmine,” I said gently, “have you ever signed anything for your uncle?””
She shook her head.
“Never.””
“Did you ever agree to give him the car?””
“No! Dad, I would never do that.””
“I know.””
Her eyes filled with tears.
“Then why is my name on it?””
I turned toward Felicia.
“Would you like to explain?””
My wife had gone unnaturally still.
“It's probably a misunderstanding.””
“A misunderstanding?”” I repeated.
She pointed at the phone.
“Maybe Derrick had her sign something months ago. Maybe she forgot.””
Jasmine stared at her.
“I've never signed anything for Uncle Derrick!””
“Don't raise your voice at me,” Felicia snapped.
Jasmine flinched.
I stepped between them.
“Don't speak to her like that.””
Felicia threw up her hands.
“Wonderful. Now I'm the villain because I tried to help my brother.””
“You sold Jasmine's car.””
“I was trying to solve a problem!””
“What problem?””
She looked at me.
Then at Jasmine.
Then away.
That hesitation told me more than any confession could have.
I took Jasmine into the kitchen and sat her at the table. She had Danielle's eyes, especially when she was frightened. I had spent twelve years trying to make sure she never felt alone in the world.
I had failed to notice that the danger had moved into our house.
“Drink some water,” I told her.
“I don't want water.””
“Then don't drink it. Just sit with me.””
She wiped her cheeks with the sleeve of her uniform.
“Dad, did Uncle Derrick really sell my car?””
“I don't know yet.””
“But Felicia said she sold it.””
“Yes.””
“And now there's a fake contract.””
I reached across the table and held her hand.
“We're going to find out what happened. Nobody is taking responsibility away from you for something you didn't do.””
She stared at our joined hands.
“Mom would never have let this happen.””
The sentence landed harder than any accusation Felicia had made.
“No,” I whispered.
“She wouldn't have.””
Jasmine looked toward the garage.
“Dad, can I ask you something?””
“Anything.””
“Did Felicia ever really like me?””
I opened my mouth.
Nothing came out.
Because the truth was that I didn't know.
I remembered Felicia helping Jasmine choose a dress for her eighth-grade dance. I remembered her baking cupcakes for Jasmine's sixteenth birthday, then complaining afterward that the party had cost too much.
I remembered the way Felicia had insisted on being included in every family photograph, even when Jasmine quietly asked me to take one with just the two of us.
At the time, I had interpreted those moments as the normal adjustments of a blended family.
Now I wondered how many warnings I had dismissed because I wanted our household to work.
“I think she wanted us to be a family,” I finally said.
“But whatever she feels, it doesn't excuse what she did.””
Jasmine nodded, though she looked unconvinced.
My phone rang.
The dealership manager, Paul Harris, was calling back.
I put the call on speaker.
“Marcus,” Paul said, “I received your message. What's going on?””
“Someone claims to have sold my daughter's Mercedes. The vehicle is registered in her name, and we need to know whether any transfer documents were filed.””
“Give me a moment.””
I heard keyboard clicks.
Then silence.
“Marcus, our records show the vehicle was purchased outright and titled to Jasmine. There has been no transfer processed through our dealership.””
“So the sale was private?””
“Possibly. But there's something else.””
My stomach tightened.
“What?””
“Someone called us two weeks ago asking whether a family member could sell the vehicle using a power of attorney.””
“Who?””
“I can't give you a name from the call log without checking the archived recording, but the person asked several questions about your purchase documents.””
“Did they identify themselves?””
Paul paused.
“Yes. They said they were Jasmine's stepmother.””
I closed my eyes.
“Thank you, Paul. Please preserve whatever records you have.””
“Of course. If you suspect a fraudulent transfer, you should contact the police and your motor vehicle authority immediately.””
“I will.””
I ended the call.
Jasmine looked at me.
“She planned this?””
“Someone did.””
From the living room came the sound of Felicia pacing.
I returned to the garage and found her standing beside the workbench, typing furiously on her phone.
“Who are you messaging?”” I asked.
She locked the screen.
“Derrick.””
“Tell him to return the car.””
“He can't.””
“Why not?””
“Because he doesn't have it anymore.””
I stared at her.
“What?””
She pressed her lips together.
“Derrick sold it to someone else.””
The words seemed to drain all the air from the room.
“When?””
“This morning.””
“Who bought it?””
“I don't know.””
“You expect me to believe you sold my daughter's car to your brother, who sold it again within hours, and you have no idea where it went?””
“He said he had a buyer.””
“Then get me the buyer's name.””
“I don't have it.””
I pulled out my phone.
Felicia lunged forward.
“Marcus, don't!””
I stopped.
“Give me one good reason.””
Her eyes shone with sudden tears.
“Because if you report this, you'll destroy Derrick's life.””
I stared at her.
“And what about Jasmine's?””
“He didn't mean for this to happen.””
“Then he can explain that to the police.””
“You don't understand what he's facing.””
“Then help me understand.””
She shook her head.
I lowered my voice.
“Felicia, this is your last chance to tell me the truth before I start finding it without you.””
For a moment, I thought she might finally speak.
Instead, she walked past me and entered the house.
I heard her bedroom door slam.
I returned to Jasmine.
She had opened her laptop and was staring at the forged agreement.
“Dad, look at this.””
She turned the screen toward me.
At the bottom of the document was an electronic timestamp showing when it had supposedly been signed.
The date was three months earlier.
“That can't be right,” she whispered.
“I was in Boston that weekend. I visited the university with my guidance counselor.””
I leaned closer.
“Are you sure?””
She opened her email and found the itinerary. Then she showed me photographs from the trip, including one taken outside the university's admissions building.
The timestamp matched the date on the alleged agreement.
She couldn't have signed the document in person.
But electronic signatures could be fabricated, and someone with access to her personal information might have created one.
“Dad,” she said, “I think somebody got into my email.””
“Why?””
She opened another window.
A password-reset notification sat in her inbox, dated two months earlier. She had assumed it was a routine security alert and ignored it.
Below it was another email, this one confirming a change to her account's recovery phone number.
The number wasn't hers.
It wasn't mine, either.
Jasmine's face went white.
“That's Aunt Melissa's number.””
I looked at her.
“Your uncle's girlfriend?””
She nodded.
“Why would she have access to my email?””
I didn't have an answer.
I took photographs of the documents and forwarded them to a separate account. Then I helped Jasmine change her passwords and enable two-factor authentication.
Next, I called the police non-emergency line and explained the situation.
The officer who answered advised us to preserve all messages, avoid confronting anyone who might destroy evidence, and make a formal report.
Before I could arrange a meeting, a car pulled into the driveway.
Derrick's battered black pickup.
He climbed out wearing sunglasses and a baseball cap. He didn't knock. He walked straight into the house as if he still lived there.
“Felicia!”” he shouted.
“Where are you?””
I stepped into the hallway.
“She's upstairs.””
He stopped when he saw me.
For half a second, surprise crossed his face.
Then he smiled.
“Marcus. We need to talk.””
“About the Mercedes?””
His smile disappeared.
“What Mercedes?””
I folded my arms.
“The white Mercedes you took from my daughter.””
Derrick glanced toward the stairs.
“Keep your voice down.””
“Why? Afraid the neighbors might hear?””
He stepped closer.
“Look, man, I know you're upset, but this is a family matter.””
“Jasmine is family. You sold her car.””
“I didn't steal anything.””
“Then explain the contract.””
His eyes flicked toward the kitchen.
“What contract?””
“The one with my daughter's forged signature.””
Derrick's face changed.
It was subtle, but unmistakable.
He knew exactly what I was talking about.
“Felicia told you about that?””
“No. Jasmine showed me.””
He cursed under his breath.
I took out my phone.
“Where is the car?””
“It's handled.””
“Where?””
“Marcus, you need to calm down.””
“Answer me.””
He removed his sunglasses and leaned toward me.
“You think because you have money, you can threaten everybody into doing what you want?””
I almost laughed.
“You stole from an eighteen-year-old girl who works part-time at a bookstore.””
“I borrowed against an asset.””
“She never gave you permission.””
“You don't know what she agreed to.””
“Then let's ask her.””
I called Jasmine into the hallway.
She appeared beside me, holding her laptop against her chest.
Derrick's expression hardened.
“Jasmine, sweetheart, this is a misunderstanding.””
“Don't call me sweetheart.””
He blinked.
She stepped forward.
“Did you take my car?””
Derrick glanced at me, then back at her.
“I was trying to help the family.””
“Which family?””
He said nothing.
“Did you forge my signature?””
“Watch your accusations.””
“Did you?””
He pointed a finger at her.
“You have no idea what your father has done for this family. You get everything handed to you, and you still act like a victim.””
Jasmine's lips trembled.
I moved forward, but she touched my arm.
“No, Dad. Let him answer.””
Derrick laughed bitterly.
“Fine. You want the truth? Your car was worth more than you needed, and I had debts to settle. The money was going to come back.””
Jasmine stared at him.
“You sold my car to pay your debts?””
“I was going to replace it.””
“With what money?””
He didn't answer.
She took a shaky breath.
“You told me I was like a daughter to you.””
“Don't make this emotional.””
“You borrowed money from me last year and never paid it back. I didn't tell Dad because I didn't want him to ban you from the house.””
Derrick rolled his eyes.
“And now look where that got you.””
Something inside me went cold.
I stepped between them.
“Get out.””
He shook his head.
“You can't kick me out of my sister's house.””
“Watch me.””
Derrick jabbed a finger toward my chest.
“You'll regret this.””
I didn't move.
He backed toward the door, muttering under his breath.
Then he stopped and looked directly at Jasmine.
“You should ask your father why your name was so easy to use.””
The front door slammed behind him.
Jasmine turned to me.
“What did he mean?””
“I don't know.””
But as I watched Derrick's truck disappear down the street, I realized something disturbing.
He had not denied forging the signature.
He had not denied taking the car.
Instead, he had tried to make my daughter question me.
And that meant the car might only be the beginning.
My phone vibrated.
An unfamiliar number had sent me a photograph.
It showed the Mercedes parked outside a commercial storage facility, its front bumper damaged and its windshield marked with a long crack.
May you like
Underneath the image were nine words.
*IF YOU WANT THE CAR BACK, ASK ABOUT THE LOAN.*
