Chapter 7: The Injunction
"He named me?" I said.
"As a co-conspirator in the alleged falsification of Daniel Marsh's DNA records," Adele Fontaine said.
"The filing claims you coordinated with Daniel and an unnamed caregiver to manipulate your grandmother into changing her will, with the intent of defrauding the rightful heir."
I looked across the table at Michael.
His jaw had tightened.
"The rightful heir," I repeated.
"Gerald is claiming he's the rightful heir?"
"He's claiming Daniel is not.
Which, if true, would leave the property without a qualified claimant — and under the trust terms, it would revert to the county.
Gerald's legal argument appears to be that no one should receive it rather than Daniel." A pause.
"I've been handling this trust for eleven years.
I've never seen a filing quite like this one."
"What does it mean for the timeline?"
"An injunction, if granted, freezes everything.
No distributions, no transfers, no further proceedings until a court rules on the underlying claim.
Given the December deadline, a successful injunction would almost certainly cause the trust to lapse." She paused again.
"I'm telling you this because you have a right to know you've been named.
I'm also telling you because I've reviewed Daniel Marsh's documentation independently, and I have significant doubts about Gerald's counter-claim."
"Can you say that?"
"I just did," she said.
"I'd suggest you speak to an attorney today.
Gerald's filing will be a matter of public record by this afternoon."
She ended the call.
I set the phone down on the leather folder.
"Gerald named me," I said aloud, to no one in particular.
Grandma Ruth's hands came flat onto the table.
"He did what?"
"He filed a fraud claim.
Against Daniel, against Michael, and against me." I looked at her.
"He's saying we manipulated you."
The color in her face changed.
Not fear.
Something harder than fear.
"Get me the phone," she said.
"Grandma—"
"Get me the phone, Claire.
I want to call Daniel."
Michael slid his phone across the table to her.
She dialed from memory — she had the number memorized, which told me everything about how long this had really been going on — and held it to her ear.
Daniel answered on the second ring.
"Gerald filed an injunction this morning," she said, without greeting him.
"He named Claire."
A silence on the other end.
Then, quietly, a word I won't repeat.
"I know," she said.
"Listen to me.
Do you still have the Holt documents?"
Another silence.
Longer.
"Daniel."
"Yes," he said.
"I have them."
"Then it's time."
"Ruth, if I use those—"
"I know what happens if you use them," she said.
"I've known for two years.
I've been waiting for you to be ready." Her voice was steady.
Completely steady.
"Gerald made the choice this morning.
Not us.
He brought Claire into this.
That changes things."
A long pause.
"All right," Daniel said.
"I'll call my attorney."
She handed the phone back to Michael.
I stared at her.
"What are the Holt documents?" I asked.
She looked at me across the table — the same look she had given me the night before, careful and weighted and full of something she had been carrying for a long time.
"Warren Holt didn't have a heart attack," she said.
"He had help.
And Gerald Marsh kept the proof because he thought it made him safe." She paused.
"He was wrong.
It only made him dangerous."
"How do you know this?"
"Because Warren Holt wrote a letter before he died," she said.
"He sent it to your grandfather.
Thomas never opened it.
He gave it to me and told me to put it somewhere safe and never speak of it." She looked at her hands.
"I gave it to Daniel eight months ago.
He had it verified."
The kitchen was very quiet.
"Grandma," I said.
"Did you know what was in it when you gave it to Daniel?"
She met my eyes.
May you like
"Yes," she said.
"I knew."
