Chapter 11 - The Key
The spare key had been inside a small ceramic bowl in my desk drawer.
Mom had told Dileia because she assumed sisters were allowed to know things like that.
Dileia must have taken the key long enough to copy it.
That explained the showing.
It did not explain Frank Merrick.
The brokerage finally produced the email Dileia had shown him.
It appeared to come from my address.
It said I wanted a quiet sale and authorized Dileia to handle access.
The problem was the timestamp.
At 2:13 a.m. on the date it was sent, I had been on a job site outside Raleigh with my company laptop offline in a locked trailer.
Patricia requested the header data.
The sending server traced to a disposable mail service.
Dileia had created an address that looked like mine by replacing one letter.
Frank had not noticed.
Or had not wanted to.
The state real estate commission opened a formal investigation.
Dileia called Dad screaming.
He put her on speaker without telling her I was in the room.
“You have to make Renata stop,” she said.
“I can’t.”
“Yes, you can. Tell her family doesn’t prosecute family.”
Dad’s jaw tightened.
“You used my house.”
“I was going to pay it back.”
“You lied to me.”
“I was desperate.”
Dad looked at me.
For once, he did not ask me to fix anything.
Then Dileia said, “Fine. Ask Renata why she thinks she bought Caldwell Street so cheap.”
I frowned.
“What does that mean?” Dad asked.
Dileia laughed once.
“Ask her buyer’s agent who owned it before her.”
She hung up.
I called Marcus.
He answered immediately.
“Who owned Caldwell Street before me?”
May you like
There was a pause.
Then he said, “Renata, I thought you knew.”
