Chapter 5: Distance
I did not return to the Colorado Springs address.
Caleb and I stayed in the apartment that still smelled faintly of the night the credit alert had arrived. He slept in short intervals between shifts he was allowed to work; I slept when the adrenaline dropped enough to allow it. Lena—recommended by a colleague who had been through a quieter fraud—took the civil side: preservation letters, title review, a timeline that braided the false stolen-car report, the recorded call, the forged POA, and the loans secured against a house that the documents said was mine.
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Mom called once, voice thin, asking whether I understood what “this” would do to the family. I said the family had reported my car stolen and signed my name on debt. She hung up. Lauren sent a message about stress and misunderstandings. I forwarded it to Lena and did not reply. Dad’s attorney sent a letter framing the trust as a loving arrangement I had simply forgotten. Lena answered with the signature comparison and a request for every document related to the refinance and subsequent borrowing.
The Honda remained mine. The false stolen report had been cleared the same night; the body-camera footage remained in the file as the opening act of a worse story than a traffic stop.
