Chapter 3 - The Corrupt Circle
The next morning,
Denver was bathed in a weak,
gray light that offered no warmth.
Caleb and I sat in his car outside the bank headquarters downtown.
I was dressed in a sharp,
navy blue suit,
my hair pulled back in a tight bun.
I looked like the professional woman I was,
not the terrified girl on the highway.
"Are you ready for this?"
Caleb asked,
checking the hidden microphone he had clipped to the underside of my lapel.
"I've been ready for this since I was ten years old,"
I said.
"Since the first time he stole my birthday money and told me I lost it."
We walked into the building,
a towering structure of glass and steel.
The bank investigator,
a stern woman named Mrs. Gable,
was waiting for us in a glass-walled conference room.
My father was already there.
He was wearing his best suit,
looking every bit the grieving,
concerned parent.
Beside him sat a man I didn't recognize.
He was balding,
with a sweat-slicked forehead and eyes that wouldn't stay still.
A heavy brass seal sat on the table in front of him.
"Emma,"
my father said,
standing up as if he wanted to hug me.
I stayed by the door,
my hands clasped in front of me.
"Let's get to it,"
Mrs. Gable said,
motioning for me to sit.
"Your father has presented a Power of Attorney document,
Ms. Vance."
"It grants him full control over your financial accounts and credit identity."
"It is dated August 14th,
four years ago."
She slid the document across the table.
I looked at it.
The signature was a perfect imitation of my own.
It was terrifying how well he knew the loops of my 'E' and the slant of my 'm'.
"This is the notary who witnessed the signing,"
my father said,
gesturing to the man beside him.
"Mr. Henderson."
Mr. Henderson cleared his throat,
his voice sounding like gravel.
"I remember it clearly,"
he said,
looking at the ceiling.
"August 14th."
"Downtown Denver office."
"Ms. Vance was very insistent that her father manage her affairs while she was busy with her career."
"I watched her sign it,
and I applied my seal."
He tapped the brass stamp on the table for emphasis.
My father leaned back,
a smug,
predatory smile playing on his lips.
"You were always a bit flighty back then,
Emma,"
he said.
"Stress does things to the memory."
"But the law is the law."
"These loans are legitimate,
and since you're the signatory,
the bank is moving to collect."
"Unless,
of course,
you agree to the restructuring plan I’ve prepared."
Mrs. Gable looked at me,
her expression unreadable.
"Ms. Vance,
do you have anything to say?"
she asked.
"Do you deny this is your signature?"
I looked at my father.
I saw the man who had abandoned me at the mall when I was six.
I saw the man who had sold my mother's wedding ring a month after her funeral.
I saw the man who had tried to have me shot by the police just forty-eight hours ago.
"I don't just deny the signature,"
I said,
my voice echoing in the quiet room.
"I deny the entire reality of this meeting."
My father laughed,
a sharp,
dismissive sound.
"Denial won't save you from the debt,
kid."
"The notary has sworn under oath."
"He’s a licensed official of the state."
"Are you calling him a liar?"
I didn't answer him.
I reached into my bag,
my fingers closing around the blue leather.
The notary shifted in his seat,
reaching for his briefcase as if he wanted to leave.
"I'm not calling him a liar,"
I said,
May you like
pulling the object out and laying it on the table.
"I'm calling him a criminal."
