When the locksmith stepped out of the truck,

Diana’s confidence vanished so quickly it was almost startling.

The man recognized me immediately, then looked at the police officer and handed over a clipboard. “I was told Mrs. Crawford owned the property,” he said carefully. “That’s what I was told when I changed the locks yesterday.”

Attorney Evelyn Porter arrived moments later carrying a leather folder. She greeted the officer, opened the folder, and calmly placed several documents on the hood of the cruiser. The trust agreement was unmistakable. My mother’s signature. The trustee’s certification. The deed. Every page confirmed the same thing: