At seven o’clock the next morning, I called Helen.
She told me exactly what to do. Reject Monica’s offer, in writing, through Helen’s office. Don’t sign anything. Don’t touch the cash. Send photographs of every single page Monica had left.
“And Rebecca,” she said. “That thing she whispered about Opal. Write it down. Exactly. Word for
word. And the time.”
I’d already written it down.
That afternoon, Helen and I went to the Franklin County recorder’s office.
We stood at a long counter while a woman with purple reading glasses typed my address into her computer. She printed out a stack of records and slid them across to us.
The house was still titled in my name. That was the first thing. It still belonged to me.
But a mortgage lien had been recorded against it in November 2022. Two months after I was convicted. While I was in Marysville.
