“Mr. Winston,” she said finally, looking up with a slight smile, “I wish all my patients were in this good a shape. Your cognitive function tests at the 98th percentile for your age group. Your memory is excellent. Your reasoning skills are sharp. There is absolutely no indication of dementia, Alzheimer’s, or any other cognitive impairment.”
“Would you be willing to testify to that in court?”
“I’d be happy to.”
I thanked her and left, feeling lighter than I had in weeks. This was ammunition, solid, undeniable proof that their entire case was built on lies.
Marcus filed our counter petition the next day. The documents outlined everything. Deborah’s psychiatrist shopping, their financial desperation, the pattern of deceptive behavior. We demanded $5,000 in compensation for emotional distress and reputational damage, plus immediate eviction.
The waiting game began.
Back at the cabin, things grew increasingly tense. Deborah had stopped pretending to be pleasant. She barely spoke to me except to make snide comments about old men who don’t know what’s good for them. Trenton avoided me entirely, spending most of his time in their bedroom or taking long drives.
I went about my routine, fly fishing in the morning, reading in the afternoon, documenting everything they said and did. The recording app on my phone had become my constant companion.
Then, a week after we filed our counter petition, Carla called.
“I found something interesting,” she said. “Very interesting.”
“What is it?”
A pause.
When she spoke again, her voice was carefully controlled.
“It looks like this isn’t the first time Deborah has tried something like this. I’ve been digging into her employment history and I found a complaint filed against her when she was working as a real estate agent six years ago before she even met Trenton.”
“What kind of complaint?”
“An elderly client accused her of manipulation. Said Deborah tried to convince her to sell her house for well below market value to a friend who would take good care of the property. The complaint was filed but never went anywhere. The company settled quietly to avoid publicity, but the records exist, and the client is still alive.”
My grip on the phone tightened.
“Can we use this?”
“If we can establish a pattern of predatory behavior toward elderly people, absolutely. This could be the key to everything.”
The next morning, I asked Carla to come to Aspen and present her findings in person. She arrived around noon, carrying a briefcase stuffed with documents. We sat in my study, the door closed while she laid out everything she’d found.
“Her name was Elellanar Vance,” Carla began spreading photographs across my desk, “74 years old at the time, widowed, living alone in a house in Littleton that she’d owned for 40 years.”
She showed me a picture of a silver-haired woman with kind eyes, the kind of grandmother you’d see in a holiday commercial.
“Deborah was her real estate agent. Eleanor wanted to downsize. Simple enough, right? Except Deborah had other ideas.”
Carla pulled out a complaint form filed with the Colorado Real Estate Commission.
“According to Eleanor’s statement, Deborah told her the house needed extensive repairs, foundation problems, roof damage, electrical issues. She recommended selling quickly, below market value, and she just happened to know a buyer.”
“Let me guess,” I said, “the buyer was a friend of Deborah’s, her cousin.”
“The house was worth around400,000. Deborah tried to get Eleanor to sell it for 250,000.”
“What happened?”
“Eleanor’s daughter got suspicious. Hired an independent inspector who found nothing wrong. The real estate company let Deborah go quietly. No formal discipline. They were more concerned about reputation than justice.”
Carla leaned back.
“But I tracked down Eleanor. She’s 80 now, living in Boulder, and she’s willing to testify. There’s more,” Carla continued. “A former colleague named Jennifer Marsh witnessed Deborah bragging about the easy mark. She’s also willing to talk.”
That evening, I called Marcus with the news.
“This changes everything,” he said. “Pattern of behavior is gold in these cases. If we can show she’s done this before to another elderly victim, the court will see her guardianship petition for what it really is. Another scheme.”
“How do we proceed?”
“We amend our counter petition, add the Eleanor Vance information, and we prepare for the hearing.”
The tension in the cabin reached a breaking point two days later. I was in the kitchen making lunch when Deborah stormed in, her face contorted with rage.
“You’re trying to destroy me,” she screamed.
“Digging up old lies, ancient history.”
I continued spreading mustard on my bread.
“Those ancient events have everything to do with who you are, Deborah. A pattern is a pattern.”
“I was cleared. There were no charges.”
“There was a settlement. There was a termination. There was an elderly woman you tried to cheat out of $150,000.”
I looked at her.
“Sound familiar?”
Her face went from red to white. Her hands were trembling. For the first time since she’d arrived, she looked genuinely afraid.
“Trenton,” she screamed. “Get in here.”
My son appeared, looking exhausted.
“What’s going on?”