A woman had taken a copy of my driver’s license because Allison had arranged a complimentary review of our estate documents.
I felt my stomach sink.
“She copied my license.”
Martin said, “Lydia remembers processing several intake forms that day.”
“For Allison?”
“For the firm.”
“Could someone have kept the copy?”
“Possibly.”
I thought about the forged signature.
My address.
My birth date.
Everything needed to make paperwork look convincing.
“Can Lydia help us?”
“She already has.”
“How?”
“She looked at the power of attorney.”
“And?”
“She says the notarization isn’t hers.”
That should have made me feel better.
Instead, I felt hollow.
Because if Lydia had not notarized it, someone had not merely copied my signature.
Someone had deliberately created an entire legal fiction.
Martin continued.
“She also noticed something odd.”
“What?”
“The date.”
I looked down at my notes.
“March eighteenth.”
“Yes. Lydia was in Colorado that week visiting her daughter.”
