Martin Porter had surrendered his license two years earlier after allegations that he prepared fraudulent property transfers for vulnerable clients.
He was not supposed to be practicing law at all.
“What did you sign?”
“A new will. A power of attorney. Something about the house. Julian covered parts of the pages with his hand.”
“Did anyone witness your signature?”
“Two men I didn’t know.”
“What happened afterward?”
“They took me to the bank.”
Her breathing became shallow.
I stopped the questions and helped her put on a soft nightgown from the cabinet. The fabric brushed against her bruises, and she flinched.
“Take your time,” I said.
