Police moved swiftly, cross-checking IDs against her evidence. Inconsistencies piled—fake licenses, forged signatures. They located him at the estate, Mabel beside him, and brought them both in. She looked groggy, over-medicated, but her eyes flickered with recognition as Lauren entered the room.
Mabel’s hand trembled toward hers. “You,” she whispered, haze parting slightly. The fake Charles sat stiff, story cracking under questions—licenses false, alibis thin. Police noted every slip, building the case without raised voices.