Chapter 26: What the Lawyer Typed

Femke's POV

The deputy's notebook was open, and Sanne had pressed her daughter's face into her neck.

I did not decide to move.

I was standing in front of Sanne before I knew I had crossed the floor.

"Deputy," I said. "She signed what he typed."

"Ma'am, step back."

"Truus. The pieces."

Truus was already gathering the torn paper off the table in both hands.

She fitted the halves together with her thick fingers until the page lay flat.

"There," she said, and pushed her glasses up. "Bottom margin. 'Prepared by counsel,' and his office initials."

"Anyone can put initials on a paper," the lawyer said.

"Not on the same letterhead he's billed this club on for three years," Truus said. "I have every invoice in my cabinet."

The deputy picked up the pieces and read them slowly, moving his lips.

"Sir," he said. "Did you prepare this?"

"I drafted a document for my client."

"Your client says you told her she'd lose her daughter if she didn't sign."

"That is hearsay."

"I'm not a judge," the deputy said. "I'm a man with a notebook, and I just watched you point me at a woman you wrote a false paper for."

The lawyer opened his mouth.

"You can explain it to the sheriff," the deputy said. "Walk out to my car with me."

The lawyer gathered his folder.

Forty men moved back from the aisle without a word, and then stood along both walls with their arms folded.

He walked the length of the room between them.

Nobody spoke to him, and nobody spat, and that was worse.

At the door, Truus held it open and said brightly, "Mind the step, it's icy."

He stopped in front of me.

"He is a Verwey, Ms. Brandsma," he said, very low. "The money finds Verweys, whether you like it or not."

"Then it can find him at twenty-one," I said, "and he can say no to it himself."

The deputy took his elbow, and they went out.

When the door shut, the room let out a roar that shook the iron stove.

Sanne sat down hard on her folding chair, because her legs had given out.

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