Her voice was flat, and that alone made my stomach drop.
“There is a quitclaim deed that was filed three weeks ago,” she said. “Pre-dated to February.”
I sat down slowly. “Whose name is on it?”
“Yours as grantor. Cody Jenkins and Caitlyn Jenkins as grantees.”
For a long moment, I did not move.
“Alicia,” I said, “I did not sign that deed.”
“I know,” she said quietly. “And Nathan, the notary stamp on it is from a man whose license was suspended in January. His name has come up twice in fraud investigations this year.”
My daughter had been married less than twenty-four hours.
“I need a certified copy of that document,” I said.
“Already printing it.”
“Don’t tell anyone.”
“Nathan,” she said, “I’ve worked in this office for seventeen years. You think this is my first rodeo?”
I drove to her office, picked up the copy, and went straight to Sierra.
She looked at it for less than a minute before placing it flat on her desk.
“This is forgery,” she said. “The trust structure alone makes it void. But the forged signature and suspended notary make this a criminal matter. You need to go to the police.”
“Not yet.”
She looked up. “Nathan.”