Chapter 3
I sat beside Maya on her bedroom floor, holding the little black notebook.
My hands wouldn't stop shaking.
For five weeks, my daughter had been documenting the man who threatened her.
She had written down every visit.
Every instruction.
Every frightening conversation.
One page contained three words that nearly destroyed me.
Don't tell Mom.
I looked at her.
"Why didn't you?"
She stared at her knees.
"Because I thought you would get hurt."
I pulled her into my arms.
"Oh, baby."
She cried against my shoulder.
"He showed me pictures of you at work. He knew where you parked. He even knew you stopped for coffee on Tuesdays."
I closed my eyes.
It was true.
Every Tuesday, I bought coffee from a little shop near the clinic.
Someone had been following me.
"Did your father ever speak to you about this?"
Maya shook her head.
"Not directly."
"Did he call?"
"Twice."
"What did he say?"
"He asked whether you still kept important papers in the bedroom."
My stomach turned.
"And what did you tell him?"
"I said I didn't know."
I took a deep breath.
"Good."
Then I picked up my phone.
I wanted to call Derek.
I wanted to scream at him until he told me everything.
But Maya grabbed my wrist.
"Don't."
"Sweetheart—"
"He said if you contacted Dad, they'd know I told you."
I stopped.
She was right.
We needed help.
Real help.
Not an argument with my ex-husband.
I called 911 and explained that an adult school employee had been threatening my minor daughter and entering our home.
The dispatcher asked whether the man was still there.
"No. He left about twenty minutes ago."
"Are you and your daughter safe?"
I looked toward the front door.
"I don't know."
She told us to remain inside, lock the doors, and avoid contacting the suspect.
Two officers arrived shortly afterward.
One was a woman named Officer Elena Ruiz.
Her voice was gentle.
She knelt beside Maya.
"You're not in trouble, okay?"
Maya nodded nervously.
Officer Ruiz asked whether Maya felt comfortable explaining what happened.
I sat beside her while she gave a brief account.
Then the officer suggested arranging a formal interview with a specialist trained to speak with children.
I was grateful.
Maya had already been through enough.
The other officer examined the notebook and asked whether the man had permission to enter our house.
"No," I said.
"How did he get inside?"
I looked at Maya.
She whispered:
"He had a key."
My blood went cold.
"What key?"
"He said Dad gave it to him."
I stared at her.
Derek still had a copy of our house key.
After the divorce, he'd promised to return it.
I thought he had.
Now I realized how careless I'd been.
Officer Ruiz noticed my expression.
"Mrs. Holloway, we recommend changing your locks immediately."
I nodded.
Then she asked about the photograph I'd seen beneath the bed.
I searched the floor.
It was gone.
Mr. Collins had taken it.
But Maya's notebook contained a description.
She'd written:
Photo of Mom outside clinic. Taken Wednesday afternoon.
The officers photographed the notebook and arranged to preserve the messages on Maya's phone.
Then I remembered something.
"Our doorbell camera."
I hurried into the kitchen.
The camera app showed only deliveries and neighborhood traffic.
There was no recording of Mr. Collins entering.
I checked the settings.
The camera had been disconnected every morning at almost exactly nine.
Someone had deliberately disabled it.
Officer Ruiz made another note.
Before leaving, she gave me instructions about preserving evidence and keeping Maya home from school while the situation was investigated.
Then she looked directly at me.
"Mrs. Holloway, don't confront either man yourself."
I nodded.
But anger was burning through me.
After the officers left, I called my attorney.
Her name was Sarah Whitmore.
She had handled my divorce.
When I explained what happened, she became very quiet.
"Renee, do you still have your divorce settlement?"
"Yes."
"Bring it to my office."
"Why?"
"Because Derek contacted me last month."
My heart stopped.
"What did he want?"
"He asked whether you would consider refinancing your house."
I stared at the wall.
"He never mentioned that to me."
"I refused to discuss your finances without your permission."
I swallowed.
"Sarah, what is he planning?"
"I don't know yet."
Then she asked a question.
"Did you ever finish removing Derek from the old mortgage documents?"
My stomach dropped.
The house had originally been purchased while we were married.
After our divorce, Derek had signed a quitclaim deed transferring his ownership interest to me.
But the mortgage refinancing process had been delayed because of my credit score.
"He signed over the house," I said.
"Yes. But I want to review the recorded deed and current loan records."
I felt sick.
"Could he take it back?"
"Not simply because his name remains on a loan. But if someone is trying to use forged documents or your identity, we need to act quickly."
I looked toward Maya.
She was curled on the couch beneath a blanket.
"How quickly?"
"Today."
I called my supervisor and explained that I had a family emergency.
Then I packed Maya's notebook, our divorce papers, and every financial document I could find.
We drove to Sarah's office.
She reviewed the paperwork.
Then she checked the county's online property records.
For several minutes, she said nothing.
I watched her expression become more serious.
"Sarah?"
She turned her screen toward me.
"Renee, someone filed a document against your property three days ago."
I leaned closer.
It was a notice connected to a proposed private loan.
The lender's name meant nothing to me.
But the amount did.
$280,000.
My mouth went dry.
"I never applied for that."
Sarah nodded.
"I believe you."
Then she pointed to the borrower information.
My name.
My address.
And a signature that looked almost exactly like mine.
Except it wasn't.
I leaned back.
"Oh, my God."
Sarah printed the document.
"We need to dispute this immediately."
I stared at the signature.
Someone had tried to borrow hundreds of thousands of dollars using my identity and my home.
And my daughter had been pressured to help them.
Then Sarah's phone rang.
She checked the caller ID.
Her expression changed.
"Renee," she whispered, "it's Derek."
I looked at her.
She put the call on speaker.
"Hello, Derek."
His voice sounded cheerful.
"Sarah, glad I caught you."
"What can I do for you?"
"I just wanted to confirm something."
"Go ahead."
"Renee hasn't contacted you about the house, has she?"
My skin went cold.
Sarah looked directly at me.
"Why do you ask?"
Derek laughed.
"Oh, no reason."
May you like
Then he said:
"She'll be signing some paperwork on Monday, and I want to make sure nobody confuses her."
