Chapter 5: What Reeves Already Knew
Grace Holloway's office was on the fourth floor of a building that smelled like old paper and radiator heat.
She was in her early sixties, small, with sharp brown eyes and reading glasses pushed up on her head like she'd forgotten they were there.
She shook my hand and pointed to the chair across from her desk without preamble.
"Daniel told me the outline," she said, sitting down.
"I want to hear it from you.
All of it.
Don't edit."
I told her everything.
The coffee.
The sign.
The courthouse.
The hospice.
The letter.
Daniel's call.
Victor Marsh's text.
She listened without interrupting.
When I finished, she picked up a pen and tapped it once against her notepad.
"The marriage is valid," she said.
"I've already pulled the filing.
It was properly executed, both parties were present and consenting, and there is no medical record from that period indicating Larry lacked capacity.
Reeves' lawyer knows this.
The 'unsound mind' argument is a pressure tactic, not a real legal position."
I exhaled slowly.
"That doesn't mean this is simple," Grace continued.
"Larry's estate is more complicated than Daniel may have explained.
The land is jointly titled in a trust that dates back to their father.
Larry's share passed to his estate at d*ath.
As his widow, you have a spousal claim.
As his son, Daniel has a filial claim.
Reeves has no direct claim — but he has been managing the trust administratively for the last twelve years."
"Managing it how?"
"That," Grace said, "is the question." She opened a folder.
"I requested the trust records yesterday.
What came back was incomplete.
Two years of statements are missing.
And the most recent property tax filings list Reeves Callahan as sole trustee — a change that was made eighteen months ago, without Larry's signature."
I went very still.
"Without Larry's signature," I repeated.
"Without any signature from Larry that I can verify as authentic." Grace set the folder down.
"Someone may have forged a trustee transfer document.
If that's true, Reeves didn't just want the land.
He was already taking it."
The pen tapped again.
"I need you to do something for me," Grace said.
"Larry's letter to you — do you still have it?"
"Yes."
"Bring it to me.
All the pages.
Don't photograph it, don't copy it, bring the originals." She paused.
"Larry may have known what Reeves was doing.
He may have written more than you think."
I thought about the pages I had only half-read before Daniel called.
I had set them down after the sentence about the legal challenge.
I had never turned to the third page.
"There were more pages," I said quietly.
"I didn't finish reading."
Grace looked at me steadily.
"Go home.
Read every word.
Then bring it here."
I stood to leave.
"One more thing," Grace said.
"Victor Marsh will call again.
When he does — and he will — you say four words.
'Speak to my attorney.' Nothing else.
Not yes, not no, not I'll think about it." Her eyes were level.
"Four words."
I nodded.
May you like
My phone was already buzzing in my bag as I walked out the door.
I didn't take it out.
