Monday morning arrived without the sound of an airplane.
I should have been waking beside the ocean.
Instead, I was in Lena's office reviewing a statement before she sent it to the lender.
She had confirmed the listed Monday appointment was an intake meeting at a law firm that sometimes coordinated closings.
There was no evidence a closing had been scheduled or that anyone could have signed for me.
That distinction mattered.
The danger was real enough without imagining a completed transfer.
Lena called the firm with my written authorization.
They confirmed that a preliminary appointment connected with Dereck and Adam had been canceled that morning.
They could not discuss the intended transaction without reviewing their own records and obligations.
I asked whether my name had been included.
Lena said she would follow up formally.
I pictured Dereck sitting outside an office, waiting for a wife who was supposed to be on vacation.
Then I reminded myself we did not yet know what the appointment had been for.
At noon, the lender's fraud team called.
They had placed the application under investigation and stopped processing while the reported identity issue was reviewed.
A specialist requested a signed statement, a copy of my identification, and the police report number if I filed one.
She described the file as an unfinished application.
No funds had been disbursed through it.
I let out a breath.
I had been afraid we might already owe $185,000.
Now I knew this particular application had not become a funded loan.
It did not erase the application.
It did not explain the signature.
But it narrowed what we needed to resolve.
I went to the police station that afternoon.
An officer listened, reviewed the documents, and recorded my report.
He did not promise an arrest or immediate conclusion.
He said an investigator might contact me and that financial-document cases often required records from companies and witnesses.
I left with a report number.
Outside, I stood beside my car and watched people cross the parking lot.
Some were carrying grocery bags.
One man was trying to fasten a toddler into a car seat.
Every ordinary movement seemed painfully familiar.
My phone buzzed.
Dereck had sent a photograph of the resort's balcony.
It was an image from the booking website.
Underneath, he wrote, "We should have been here."
I typed, "I agree."
Then I deleted it.
I sent, "Please communicate about the loan through my lawyer."
He responded almost immediately.
"You never even gave me a chance to fix this."
I looked again at the application date.
He had been given every chance before he submitted my information.
Click here to continue reading: PART 7: The Family Dinner Where Adam Asked Me to Forget the Documents
The Passport in the Drawer and the Photograph That Ended Our Anniversary Trip
Part 6 of 16
