Chapter 5: Four Hours
Gabriel ran two yellow lights getting back to the house.
Lucy sat in the passenger seat with her hands flat on her knees, watching the Denver streets go by.
The mountains were visible to the west, pale and enormous in the early light.
"If the notary arrives at ten," she said, "and Beatriz has already moved the timeline, she suspects something."
"Maybe," Gabriel said.
"Or she's just impatient.
The property sale was always the bigger priority for her.
The power-of-attorney documents were insurance."
"Insurance against what?"
"Against your father surviving."
Lucy looked out the window.
"If he shows signs of recovery," Gabriel continued, "the forged documents give Beatriz legal control before any court can appoint a guardian.
She could move assets, liquidate the Aspen property, and have the estate restructured before he could testify to anything."
"She thought of everything," Lucy said.
"She had fourteen months to plan it."
They pulled up two blocks from the house.
Gabriel called Renata Cruz.
She picked up on the first ring.
"I have the daughter with me," he said.
"I know.
I saw your car." A pause.
"Lucy, my name is Renata Cruz.
I'm with the Colorado Financial Crimes Unit working in coordination with federal investigators.
I need you to do exactly what I tell you this morning.
Can you do that?"
"Yes," Lucy said.
"Go into the house.
Act normal.
Tell Beatriz you came early because you were worried about your father.
Do not mention the documents.
Do not mention me.
Do not go upstairs alone.
I'll be inside as the home health aide — your father's doctor arranged my placement yesterday."
"She'll recognize me," Lucy said.
"I can't pretend I don't know what she's done."
"You don't have to pretend for long," Cruz said.
"I just need you in that house when the notary arrives.
Your presence changes the legal picture entirely — a forged power of attorney cannot be executed in front of the person whose rights it eliminates.
The moment you're in that room, the document is void on its face."
"And Beatriz?"
A short silence.
"Let her show me who she is," Cruz said.
"That's all I need."
Lucy got out of the car.
The front walk of her childhood home looked the same as it always had — the same blue spruce her father had planted the year she was born, the same flagstone path her mother had chosen before she passed.
Lucy had not been back since Christmas.
Beatriz had been politely discouraging about visits since the crash.
*He needs rest.
The stimulation isn't good for him.
I'll call you if anything changes.*
Lucy rang the bell.
Beatriz opened the door in a silk blouse and pressed trousers, her hair already done.
She looked at Lucy the way someone looks at a package that arrived on the wrong day.
"Lucy.
I wasn't expecting you until tomorrow."
"I took an earlier flight.
I wanted to see him."
A beat.
Beatriz's smile returned, smooth and practiced.
"Of course.
Come in.
I'll put coffee on."
The house was immaculate.
Flowers on the entry table, fresh.
A legal folder sitting open on the dining room table — Lucy saw it from the hallway and kept her eyes moving, kept her face easy.
A woman in pale blue scrubs was adjusting the equipment near the staircase.
She didn't look up when Lucy entered.
Renata Cruz.
Right where she said she'd be.
Lucy went upstairs.
The bedroom door was open.
Her father lay in the adjustable bed, collar still in place, eyes fixed on the window.
The morning light came through the curtains and fell across the blanket over his chest.
Lucy sat in the chair beside the bed.
She leaned forward and took his hand in both of hers.
"Dad," she said quietly.
"I'm here."
His fingers moved.
Slow and deliberate, the way Gabriel had described.
Two taps against her palm.
Her throat tightened.
She pressed his hand harder.
"I know everything," she whispered.
"I'm not going anywhere."
Downstairs, the front door opened.
A man's voice — the notary, early.
And then a second voice, one Lucy recognized immediately.
Alvin.
Her uncle's laugh carried up the staircase like it always had — easy, warm, the laugh of a man who had sat at every family holiday table she could remember.
Lucy looked at her father's face.
His jaw had gone rigid.
The only part of him he couldn't fully control.
"I know about him too," she said.
One tap.
Slow.
Heavy.
She understood what it meant.
*I know you know.
I'm sorry.*
She was still holding his hand when Beatriz's voice floated up from the bottom of the stairs.
"Lucy?
The notary is here.
May you like
Could you come down?
There are some documents that need a family witness."
