Chapter 7: Mason
He was waiting in the hallway outside Hale's office when I arrived the next morning.
He looked like he hadn't slept.
His eyes were red and he was holding a paper cup of coffee with both hands like it was the only solid thing in the room.
He saw me and stood up.
"Connor—"
"Sit down, Mason."
He sat.
I stood in front of him.
I had known this kid his whole life.
I had driven him to his first job interview.
I had lent him money twice when he was between apartments.
"Why?" I said.
He stared at the cup.
"She said you were going to cut the family off.
That once Frederick was born, you were going to stop sending money and move Amy's parents in and forget about all of us."
"That was never true."
"I know that now."
"Did you know it then?"
He didn't answer.
"Mason.
Did you know it was a lie when she told you?"
He looked up.
His eyes were wet.
"I thought — I thought maybe it was partly true.
You had been different since Frederick.
More focused on Amy's side of things.
I thought maybe Teresa was exaggerating but not completely making it up."
"So you forged my signature on a property transfer document."
"She said it was just paperwork.
That it would protect the family's interest in the house.
That you'd understand later."
"You're twenty-four years old.
You know what a property deed is."
His jaw worked.
"I know."
"You sat at my table.
You ate the food Amy cooked.
And then you forged my name so your aunt could st3al my house."
"I'm sorry, Connor." His voice cracked.
"I know that doesn't mean anything.
But I am."
I looked at him for a long moment.
"It means something," I said.
"It doesn't fix anything.
But it means something."
I walked past him into Hale's office.
---
Hale had the full timeline laid out on his desk.
Eleven months of planning, mapped across a whiteboard on the wall.
Names, dates, amounts, arrows connecting Teresa to Fitch to Mason to Betsy.
Betsy.
"She knew," I said, looking at her name.
"She knew the outline.
Not all the details.
She thought it was a softer plan — pressure Amy out of the picture through humiliation, get you to agree to add Teresa's name to the deed voluntarily." Hale crossed his arms.
"When she found out about the forgery, she panicked.
That's why she's been cooperative since yesterday afternoon."
"Cooperative how?"
"She gave us the name of the account where Fitch deposited his fee." He pointed to a number on the board.
"Twelve thousand dollars.
Paid in two installments.
We've frozen it."
"And Fitch?"
"Picked up this morning in Clarksville.
He's being processed now." Hale turned from the board.
"Teresa's attorney filed a motion this morning to have the recording excluded.
The judge denied it inside of two hours."
I looked at the whiteboard.
All those names.
All those arrows.
"She built a whole operation," I said.
"She had eleven months and a son who trusted her completely." Hale said it without cruelty.
Just fact.
"That's a significant resource."
I nodded.
"What happens now?"
"The DA is filing charges this week.
Fraud, forgery, conspiracy to commit property theft.
Fitch gets the same, plus the prior pattern from Memphis and Knoxville.
Mason has a plea agreement — cooperation in exchange for reduced charges." He paused.
"Teresa's attorney will try to negotiate.
I don't think the DA is in a mood to negotiate."
I picked up my jacket from the chair.
"Hale," I said.
"The text.
'Back off or this gets worse for your wife.' Was that Fitch?"
"Fitch's phone.
But the message was drafted by Teresa and sent by Mason at her instruction." He looked at me steadily.
"She sent it thirty minutes after your phone call ended.
While she was still technically under the conditions of her release."
May you like
"That's a violation."
"Her attorney is going to have a very bad afternoon."
