Dalton didn’t take the page back.

He let it sit in front of me.

-Read the heading, Captain.

I read it.

DEED OF TRUST.

Below it, in smaller type. This instrument secures a loan in the principal amount of two hundred ten thousand dollars.

Below that, the lender.

Cumberland Bridge Capital LLC.

Below that, the borrower.

Natalie R. Callahan, as Trustee of the Thomas Callahan Family Trust.

My grandfather’s name. My name. My house.

-I’ve never heard of Cumberland Bridge.

-Private lender. Nashville. They do short-term bridge loans. High interest. Fast money. No questions a regular bank would ask.

-How did you find this?

-I pulled a title report on the property before I drove over. Habit. When someone tells me there’s a fight over a house, I want to know what’s already sitting on it.

He tapped the corner of the page. A recording stamp. Montgomery County Register of Deeds. Book number. Page number. Date.

-Recorded May sixteenth.

-I was in Erbil on May sixteenth.

-Signed May fourteenth. Notarized the same day. Davidson County.

-I was in Erbil on May fourteenth too. I was in Erbil from February third to last Thursday.

Captain Morales leaned forward and pulled the page toward her. She read the notary block out loud.

-State of Tennessee, County of Davidson. On this fourteenth day of May, before me personally appeared Natalie R. Callahan, personally known to me or proved on the basis of satisfactory evidence.

She looked up.

-Personally appeared.

-I was nine thousand miles away.

-Then somebody lied under seal.

-Who’s the notary?

Morales turned the page so I could see the stamp.

Dana L. Pruitt. Notary Public. State of Tennessee at Large. Commission expires 2027.

I didn’t know the name.

Dalton was already on his laptop.

-Two hundred ten thousand. Bridge loan. Twelve months. Interest-only. Fourteen percent.

-Fourteen.

-That’s bridge money. Somebody needed it fast and didn’t care about the price.

He typed. Scrolled. Stopped.

His mouth went flat.

-Captain, when’s the last time anybody made a payment on this loan?

-I didn’t know it existed until four minutes ago.

-Two payments. June and July. Then nothing.

-What happens when nothing gets paid?

He turned the laptop around.

It was a scanned newspaper page. The Leaf-Chronicle. Legal notices. Small gray type in narrow columns.

He had highlighted one.

NOTICE OF SUBSTITUTE TRUSTEE’S SALE.

My address. My grandfather’s trust. Cumberland Bridge Capital.

I read the last paragraph three times.

Sale will be held at public auction to the highest bidder for cash at the Montgomery County Courthouse, Clarksville, Tennessee, on Thursday at 11:00 a.m.

I looked up.

-Which Thursday?

-This Thursday.

Nobody in the office said anything for a while.

The air conditioner hummed. Somewhere outside the window, a platoon was running past in formation. I could hear the cadence. Faint. Rhythmic. Normal.

Tennessee doesn’t need a judge to foreclose. Dalton explained it in about four sentences. If a deed of trust has a power-of-sale clause, the lender appoints a trustee, publishes notice three times, and sells the house on the courthouse steps. No hearing. No jury. Twenty days from first publication, sometimes less.

The first notice had run three weeks ago.

While I was still in Iraq.

-If somebody buys it Thursday?

-Then you’re suing a third-party buyer and a lender in chancery court for the next two to three years. You might win. You’ll probably win. But you won’t live in that house while you do it.

-Can we stop it?

-Temporary restraining order. Chancery court. I need a verified complaint, an affidavit from you, and enough evidence that the signature’s a forgery to convince a judge you’re likely to win on the merits.

-How fast?

-I can file today. If the chancellor’s in, we might get it signed this afternoon. Maybe tomorrow morning.

-Maybe.

-Maybe.

Morales picked up her phone.

-I’m calling Clarksville PD. Financial crimes. And CID. The power of attorney and the pay diversion happened while you were deployed. That’s ours too.

I looked at the clock on her wall.

Dad’s voice from last night came back to me. Quiet. Reasonable. You need to take care of something tomorrow. Some paperwork. A transfer.

-Ma’am.

-Yes.

-My father wants me to sign the house over to my sister today.

Morales put the phone down.

-Today?

-He told me last night at the barbecue. Paperwork. A transfer. He said it was the easiest solution. He said he still has connections. He reminded me I’m on the list for the major’s board.

Morales and Dalton looked at each other.

-Where?

-He didn’t say. He said he’d text me the time.

As if he’d heard me, my phone buzzed on the desk.

DAD.

4 PM today. Riverside Title on Madison Street. Bring your ID and the trust papers. Don’t be late. Your mother’s already set it up.