Chapter 4: The Notary's Name
Carol's contact was a paralegal named Donna who worked at a firm downtown.
She agreed to meet us the next morning at a coffee shop on High Street.
She was in her fifties, sharp-eyed, and she looked at the photographs on my phone without touching them.
"The stamp," she said.
"Can you zoom in there?"
I did.
She studied it for a long moment.
Then she sat back.
"That notary ID number — I can run it.
Give me twenty minutes."
She stepped outside.
Carol refilled our cups.
Hannah had stayed at Carol's apartment; I hadn't wanted her anywhere near this conversation.
When Donna came back, she sat down and folded her hands on the table.
"The notary is real.
Licensed, active, office in Gahanna.
Name is Philip Sears."
"I've never met anyone named Philip Sears."
"I know." She turned her phone toward me.
"But your sister-in-law has.
He notarized her divorce settlement documents eight months ago."
The coffee cup was warm in my hands.
I set it down.
"Brenda used the same notary."
"Same office.
Same notary ID." Donna looked at me steadily.
"That's not a coincidence, Rebecca."
I drove straight from that coffee shop to the county recorder's office.
I told the clerk I needed to verify the status of a property filing under my name.
She typed for a moment, then turned her screen slightly toward me.
The transfer had been submitted.
It had not yet been fully processed — there was a standard thirty-day review window for residential land transfers in Franklin County.
We were on day nineteen.
Eleven days.
I called Robert Haines from the parking lot.
"Robert, they used a notary connected to Brenda.
The transfer is in review.
I have nineteen days left on the window.
What can I do?"
"File a fraud challenge today.
Not tomorrow — today.
I need you in my office at two o'clock with every document you have, including your original proof of ownership and anything that places you outside Columbus on October 9th."
"I have a hotel receipt from Dayton.
A timestamped supplier invoice.
My car's toll records."
"Bring all of it." A pause.
"Rebecca, this was not impulsive.
Someone prepared this."
"I know."
"Do you want to tell me who you think that someone is?"
I looked through the windshield at the recorder's office.
A woman was walking out with a folder under her arm, moving quickly, not looking back.
"I think it was all three of them," I said.
"Brandon.
His mother.
And Brenda."
Robert said nothing for a moment.
Then: "I'll see you at two."
I was pulling out of the parking lot when my phone rang.
Brandon's name on the screen.
I let it ring.
It rang again thirty seconds later.
Then a text:
*We need to talk.
Come home.*
May you like
I put the phone face-down on the passenger seat and drove to Robert's office.
He could wait.
