I Saw My Signature on the Sale Papers for a House I Never Sold

man in a pale gray suit named Neil Cramer, stepped forward so fast he nearly caught his shoe on a piece of torn-up floor runner.

“My client is willing to cooperate,” he said. “There’s no need for theatrics.”

The sheriff gave him one glance.

“Then she’ll cooperate downtown.”

That was when Brittany looked at me.

Actually looked at me.

Her mouth tightened. continue reading …