Chapter 18 - The Signature of a Dead Woman
"She never wrote that," I said as soon as Sonia showed me the statement.
The page claimed Lena had asked for the west door to be chained because she feared people stealing from the supply closet. It said she understood the safety risk and accepted responsibility. It was dated three days after the fire.
Three days after my sister died.
Sonia read the date aloud. I watched the color leave her face. It wasn't a clever forgery. It was an insult written by somebody so used to getting away with things that they hadn't bothered to check when the victim was buried.
Investigators compared the signature with Lena's real forms and traced the file's creation history. A foundation employee had assembled it using an older housing application. The digital record showed it was uploaded under an executive assistant's credentials. The assistant, faced with the evidence, agreed to describe who had ordered it prepared.
Beatrice's attorney said she had not personally drafted the document. The assistant's account, however, connected the order to a meeting with Rusk and Beatrice's chief administrator. Prosecutors widened their investigation into witness intimidation and falsified records.
For the first time since the gala, I could see a path toward an answer that didn't depend on Noah reliving the fire for strangers.
That evening I visited Lena's grave. The grass had grown over the place where we'd knelt to bury her. "I'm sorry I didn't believe you fast enough," I whispered. "I'm sorry I told you to be careful instead of helping you get out."
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My phone rang. It was Ruiz, asking whether I could come in the following day with a victim advocate. They had recovered the last emergency call from Juniper House, including something Lena said shortly before the connection failed.
"I think," Ruiz told me, "you need to hear what your sister wanted Noah to know."
