Chapter 4 - The Appraisal“You’ve been so quiet lately, Harper,” Brenda purred one evening over dinner, swirling a glass of very expensive Merlot she had bought on credit. “Thinking about finding your own apartment yet? I saw some lovely, affordable studios downtown.”
“I’m considering my options,” I lied smoothly, cutting my chicken.
“Good girl,” she patronized, patting my hand. Her skin was ice cold.
Then, on a rainy Tuesday morning, the final piece of the trap fell into place. I was supposed to be at my university classes, but Mr. Vance had tipped me off. I sat in the dark of my bedroom, waiting.
At exactly 10:00 AM, the doorbell rang.
I crept to the top of the landing and looked down. Brenda practically sprinted to the door, her silk robe billowing behind her. She swung it open to reveal a stern-looking man in a beige trench coat holding a clipboard.
“Mrs. Brenda Davis?” the man asked.
“Yes, that’s me!” she chirped.
“I’m Mr. Caldwell. I’m the independent appraiser sent by First National Bank. I just need to do a final walkthrough of the property to verify its condition before the underwriters clear your HELOC disbursement for tomorrow morning.”
My breath hitched. Tomorrow morning. The wire transfer was scheduled for tomorrow.
“Of course, come right in!” Brenda stepped aside, gesturing grandly. “The house is in perfect condition. We’ve taken impeccable care of it.”
She led him into the living room. I quietly descended the stairs, pausing on the bottom step, hidden in the shadow of the hallway.
“Looks solid,” Mr. Caldwell mumbled, making checkmarks. “I’ll need to see the bedrooms upstairs. Just a formality.”
“Right this way,” Brenda said.
She turned and marched toward the stairs, freezing when she saw me standing there. The color drained from her face for a fraction of a second, but she recovered quickly, her eyes flashing with a silent, violent warning.
“Harper, darling,” she said through gritted teeth. “I thought you had class.”
“Professor canceled,” I said casually, looking at the appraiser. “Can I help you?”
Brenda stepped between us, laughing nervously. “This is just an insurance inspector, Harper. Checking the pipes. Nothing for you to worry about.”
Mr. Caldwell frowned, looking at his clipboard. “Actually, I’m here for the home equity—”
Before he could finish the sentence, Brenda let out a loud, theatrical sneeze, cutting him off.
“Bless you,” Mr. Caldwell said, mildly irritated.
“My allergies,” Brenda gasped, fanning her face and physically ushering the man up the stairs, pushing past me. She shot me a look of pure venom over her shoulder. Stay quiet, her eyes screamed.
I let them pass. I had to let the appraisal happen. If I blew the whistle now, the bank would pull out, and Brenda wouldn’t cross the finish line of her felony. I retreated to the kitchen, gripping the edge of the marble island until my knuckles turned white, listening to the heavy footsteps above me.
Fifteen minutes later, Caldwell came downstairs, Brenda hovering at his elbow like an anxious moth.
“Everything looks to be in order,” Caldwell said, capping his pen. “I’ll submit the final report by noon. The underwriters will review it, and assuming no red flags, the $200,000 disbursement will hit your account by 9:00 AM tomorrow.”
“Thank you so much,” Brenda practically sang, showing him out.
The moment the door clicked shut, she spun around, dropping the sweet facade.
“What are you doing home?” she snarled, marching into the kitchen.
“I told you, class was canceled.” I poured myself a glass of water, keeping my hands steady. “Why is an ‘insurance inspector’ talking about a two hundred thousand dollar disbursement?”
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Brenda’s eyes darted left, then right, calculating. “Your father and I are taking out a small personal loan to do some renovations. The bank just uses the house’s address for file purposes. It’s adult financial stuff, Harper. You wouldn’t understand.”
The audacity was almost breathtaking. “I see,” I said simply.
