I took the pen from his hand and signed on the dark line.

“What happens to the home equity line he tried to open without my consent?” I asked.

“It dies today,” Frank said flatly.

“The bank’s fraud department will have our notice before one o’clock.

If he tries to draw on the house equity after he’s been served, he’s looking at an immediate criminal referral.”

He took a thick red folder out of his desk drawer, slipped my signed retainer inside, and squared the bank receipts under a paperweight.

“Where are you staying tonight, Mariana?” Frank asked, peering at me over the top of his frames.