Chapter 6 - What the Cameras Revealed
The investigation uncovered the plan piece by piece.
Curtis’s consulting business had failed almost a year earlier. Instead of telling my mother, he borrowed against credit cards, stopped paying taxes, and used new loans to cover old ones.
He maintained the appearance of success through leased cars and expensive dinners.
Cedar Watch became his exit.
He contacted Summit Vale before the property was listed. He described my mother as the sole owner and me as an estranged daughter who had disappeared into military service.
When Graham’s first title search identified the trust, Curtis offered him money to prepare a limited report for the lender.
Graham later claimed he believed the trust had been dissolved.
His emails proved otherwise.
Speed had been his weapon.
Paper became mine.
Avery asked to meet me at a diner two days after the failed ceremony. She arrived without makeup, wearing an old college sweatshirt. For once, she did not hold a phone.
“I canceled the trip,” she said.
“The funds are frozen. You could not have gone anyway.”
“I canceled it before the airline blocked the tickets.”
I waited.
She wrapped both hands around a mug of tea.
“I found Dad’s laptop. He left it open when the deputies came. There are messages about moving money to an account in Belize. He planned to leave Mom after the sale.”
“Do you have the messages?”
She slid a flash drive across the table.
“I made copies.”
“Why give them to me?”
Avery looked toward the window.
“Because all those years, he told me you hated us. He said you kept the cabin tied up because you wanted Mom to depend on you. He made me believe every repair you paid for was a way to control the family.”
“And you believed him.”
“Yes.”
The honesty was painful, but cleaner than excuses.
She continued.
“I also found a storage unit receipt. Dad moved things there before the auction. Jewelry, documents, your mother’s silver, and boxes from the workshop.”
My father’s tools were in that unit.
Avery agreed to speak with investigators.
Before we left, she said, “I know saying sorry doesn’t repair this.”
“No.”
“But I am sorry.”
“I believe you,” I said. “That is not the same as forgiving everything.”
May you like
“I understand.”
It was the first conversation we had ever finished without one of us pretending.
