"Years ago. The original business insurance forms. Why?"
"Have you signed anything concerning your father's property? A guaranty, a transfer, a power of attorney, anything like that?"
"No. I told Ryan I wouldn't."
Daniel closed his eyes briefly, and when he opened them he looked older than he had at last year's Christmas party. He gripped the edge of his document case as if it were the only solid thing within reach. "Valerie," he said, his voice almost breaking, "I need to tell you what your husband did with your signature."
The words settled between us without immediately becoming understandable. I knew what a signature was, of course, and I knew the difference between signing a form and authorizing someone else to act in my name. Yet for several seconds my mind kept returning to the smaller betrayal waiting in first class, as if adultery were a problem with edges I could recognize and financial fraud were too large to fit through the narrow opening Daniel had made in my day.
"What signature?" I asked.
Daniel opened his document case but did not immediately remove anything. "Ryan submitted a packet to Crescent State Bank. It includes a personal guarantee in your name and documents authorizing him to use the Bennett property as collateral for a commercial loan. The amount is three million two hundred thousand dollars."
I heard myself laugh once. It was not a pleasant sound. "That's impossible. I told him no."
"I know," Daniel said. "I know you did. That's why I'm here."
He handed me a copy of the first page. My full legal name appeared near the top, followed by the address of the house where my mother lived and a description of the surrounding land. Farther down was a signature that looked enough like mine to make my mouth go dry. I did not recognize the handwriting because it was not mine, but I recognized the intention behind it, the careful effort to make an unauthorized act look ordinary.
"This is not my signature," I whispered.
"I believe you."
"Who witnessed it?"
Daniel pointed toward the certification block. A notary's name appeared there, along with a stamp and a date from two weeks earlier. At that exact hour, I had been working a flight from Dallas to Seattle, a fact that was documented in crew records, passenger manifests, and more than one photograph a coworker had taken at the hotel after we landed. The distance between Dallas and Seattle suddenly felt like the only thing protecting my sanity.
"Ryan used a copy of your signature from an older company document," Daniel said. "At least, that's what our outside counsel thinks. We don't yet know who prepared the packet or how the notary information got onto it. The bank's fraud team has put the transaction on hold."
"Then why do you need him to stay in Dallas?"
"Because there's more, and because the police already have a report. They need to speak to him before he leaves the country."