Chapter 3 - The Man at the Bus Door)
Gregory did not run toward the bus. He walked.
That frightened Alison more.
He crossed the wet pavement with his empty hands visible, wearing the gray jacket she had given him on his birthday. Rain darkened his shoulders, but he seemed unconcerned. To anyone watching from a distance, he looked like a worried partner coming to collect his family.
Officer Kim moved between him and the bus doors. The second transit officer joined her.
“Sir, stay where you are.”
Gregory stopped and raised both hands. “My girlfriend called me. She’s having some kind of panic episode.”
Alison felt the passengers turn toward her.
He had chosen his story quickly and well. Alison was the frightened woman. He was the calm man. If she shouted, he would call it proof.
Darnell leaned toward the microphone that served the bus cabin. “For the record, the passenger requested police assistance before that man arrived.”
Gregory’s eyes flicked toward him.
Officer Kim asked for identification. Gregory reached slowly into his jacket and produced a wallet. While she examined his license, a Milwaukee police cruiser entered the station from the opposite side. Gregory glanced at it, and Alison saw the first fracture in his composure.
“The deed,” Abigail whispered. “Look.”
A corner of cream-colored paper protruded from inside Gregory’s jacket. An embossed county seal was visible beneath the wet fabric.
Alison opened the bus door before Darnell could stop her.
“That’s mine,” she called. “He has my original deed.”
Gregory looked down, tucked the paper deeper into his coat, and smiled at Officer Kim. “It’s a copy. Alison asked me to bring it to an appraiser.”
“I did not.”
The city officers approached. One spoke to Gregory while the other came aboard to interview Alison. She showed him the messages and the photograph. He listened carefully, but when she said she wanted Gregory arrested for taking the documents, his response was cautious.
“Do you have proof he entered without permission?”
“He has a key, but I didn’t give him permission today.”
“And you previously authorized him to access the safe?”
“Once, months ago.”
The officer’s expression remained neutral. “This could involve theft or attempted fraud, but because of the relationship and prior access, we need to establish ownership and intent. We can escort you home and ask him to return your property.”
Alison understood the legal caution. She also understood that Gregory had counted on it.
Outside, Gregory was explaining that the purchase agreement represented a legitimate offer. He said Alison had become anxious after her husband’s death, that financial discussions sometimes overwhelmed her, and that he had simply tried to help.
Michael had died six years earlier. Gregory had never known him.
Yet he spoke of Alison’s grief as if it were a medical condition he had witnessed.
The officer asked Gregory to surrender the paper in his jacket. Gregory produced a photocopy of the deed, not the original shown in the photograph. He also handed over a blank purchase agreement bearing the Lakefront Renewal logo. Alison compared it to the picture on her phone. The photographed version contained a sale price and her typed name. The one he carried did not.
“Where are my passport and original deed?” she asked.
“On your kitchen table, exactly where I left them.”
“Then why didn’t officers see them through the window?”
His smile narrowed. “Because the curtains are closed?”
Abigail hid behind Alison.
Gregory saw the movement and lowered his voice. “Abby, sweetheart, you know I would never scare you.”
“Don’t talk to her,” Alison said.
“You’re making this worse.”
“No. I’m ending it. Give me my house key.”
The officers watched as Gregory removed a key from his ring. He placed it in Alison’s open palm and folded her fingers around it as though performing a tender farewell.
“Call me when you calm down,” he murmured.
“I am calm.”
For the first time, his smile vanished completely.
The city officers followed Gregory to his SUV and checked the vehicle with his consent. They found no passport, original deed, or weapon. Because the available documents were copies and no direct threat appeared in the messages, they did not detain him. They filed an incident report and instructed him not to return to Alison’s property without express permission.
Gregory drove away.
Alison did not feel relieved. He had blocked both exits with his SUV, then surrendered a key he could have copied at any hardware store. Everything he had done was designed to appear cooperative without giving up control.
Darnell finished his route and refused to leave Alison and Abigail alone. “My sister works at the courthouse,” he said. “Men like that count on you thinking one piece of paper can’t hurt you until the paper has already become a lock.”
He drove them in his own car to the apartment of Alison’s oldest friend, Naomi Price, a family-law attorney who lived near Brady Street. Naomi opened the door wearing running shoes and a Marquette sweatshirt. One look at Abigail’s face erased every question.
She locked the door, closed the blinds, and made hot chocolate.
At the dining table, Naomi examined the photograph, the blank agreement Gregory had surrendered, and the yellow property list Abigail had taken.
“This is not a normal home purchase,” she said. “Lakefront Renewal Holdings was formed four months ago. Their registered agent is a service company. No employees, no public office, no completed projects.”
“How do you know that already?” Alison asked.
“They tried to buy a building from one of my clients last month. Cash offer, same-day deadline, private notary. My client refused. Two days later someone filed a forged lien against the property.”
Abigail’s spoon stopped halfway to her mouth.
Naomi lowered her voice. “The lien was removed. My client is safe.”
“Why would they want my house?” Alison asked. “It’s not worth enough for this.”
Naomi turned the yellow sheet sideways. The listed addresses formed a rough rectangle across several blocks. Most had initials beside them. Alison’s was one of only two marked missing.
“Your house may not be valuable by itself,” Naomi said. “But it appears to be part of something larger.”
She opened the county property database on her laptop. Alison’s father, Thomas Reed, had transferred the house to Alison through a beneficiary deed shortly before his death. That much Alison knew.
Naomi clicked through older filings.
“This is strange.”
“What?”
“There’s a memorandum attached to the parcel from 1998. It references an access covenant running behind five properties. The scanned document isn’t available online.”
“What kind of access?”
“Rail or utility, maybe. If it survived later transfers, controlling your parcel could determine whether a developer can reach the river side of the block.”
Alison pictured the narrow alley behind her house, the cracked pavement and chained gate her father had never allowed anyone to remove.
Naomi looked at the photograph again. “We need to freeze your credit, notify the register of deeds, and find out whether anything has already been filed.”
She searched by Alison’s name.
One result appeared with that day’s date.
It was not a deed.
It was a power of attorney granting Gregory Shaw authority over all property and financial accounts belonging to Alison Mercer.
May you like
The document carried Alison’s signature.
And it had been notarized three hours earlier.
