Chapter 16 - The Title Office in Clayton
The address for Linda Geller’s former title office was located in a dilapidated strip mall off Highway 70 in Clayton. The neon sign above the door flickered erratically—Apex Valley Title & Escrow—though the papered-over windows indicated it had been out of business for years.
We parked around back near the loading dock, keeping our headlights off.
“How are we supposed to get in?” Ryan whispered, stepping out into the cool night air.
“We don't need to break in,” I said, pulling a small manila folder from my back seat. “Evelyn tracked down Linda Geller’s residential address two towns over in Garner. If she’s not here, she’s there.”
Before we could get back into the car, a rusted Honda civic pulled around the corner of the strip mall, its headlights sweeping across our faces before cutting out entirely.
The driver’s side door opened slowly, and an elderly woman with wild grey hair and a heavy winter coat stepped out, clutching a plastic grocery bag against her chest.
“Who’s there? Property’s private!” she called out, her voice cracking in the dark.
“Linda Geller?” I asked, stepping forward into the pale glow of the streetlamp.
The woman froze, squinting at us through thick glasses. “I don't do title work anymore. I’m retired. Go away.”
“We’re not here for title work, Ms. Geller,” Ryan said, stepping up beside me. “We’re here about a commercial surety bond from 2017 bearing my sister’s forged signature and your notary stamp.”
Linda’s face drained of color. She clutched her grocery bag tighter, backing up a step until her spine hit the side of her Honda. “Arthur Prescott... that lying bastard. I told him back then, forging signatures on commercial paper was federal territory. But he swore you knew about it, that you were just ‘sleeping partners’ in the deal.”
“He lied to you, and he used you,” I said, stepping closer. “And now men are showing up at my house demanding money I don't owe. If you help us prove that stamp was unauthorized, we protect you from the federal audit. If you don't, Evelyn Vance is going to hand your name directly to the grand jury alongside his.”
Linda stared at me for a long, agonizing moment. Her hands trembled so violently the plastic grocery bag rattled in the night air.
May you like
Then, she let out a shaky sigh, reached into her coat pocket, and pulled out an old brass key.
“Unlock the side door,” she whispered. “Inside the back filing cabinet, under Prescott, there’s a ledger book with the original video logs and client sign-off sheets. Arthur never signed your name himself. He brought someone else in to do it.”
