As soon as they left, I called David.
“They’re claiming they bought the house. Some guy named Richard Blackwood prepared the documents.”
David’s laugh was short and sharp. “Clare, that’s impossible. The trust owns the property. I never signed anything. And that name… I’ve heard it before. Give me a day.”
The next morning, he called back. “Blackwood isn’t even licensed to practice in Oregon. He’s on a watchlist for estate scams.”
“Then let’s catch them in the act,” I said.
David hesitated. “You want to bait them?”
“No. I want to document them.”
He agreed.
At exactly 9:00 a.m., a white BMW, a black SUV, and a moving truck pulled into the driveway. Julia hopped out in designer sunglasses. My parents followed. A man in a cheap suit carried a briefcase.
They rang the doorbell like they were checking into a hotel.
“Good morning, Clare!” Julia chirped. “Ready to move out?”
I opened the door. “Actually, I think you’ll want to come inside.”
They stepped into the foyer. The fake lawyer introduced himself.
“Miss Clare Thompson, I’m Richard Blackwood, attorney for Julia Thompson. These papers show legal transfer of the home. If you refuse to vacate, we’ll call the police.”
“Let me see those documents,” I said.
He opened the case and laid them out on the table. I took photos of each page.
“And you’re sure this is all legal?”
“Absolutely,” he said confidently.
Julia crossed her arms. “It’s over, Clare.”
Mom nodded. “You couldn’t handle the estate anyway.”
I stepped to the window and opened it.
“I think someone would like to join us.”
Footsteps echoed on the porch.
