The original consent page arrived by courier on Friday.
I asked the town clerk to witness me opening the envelope. The page was printed on thick letter-size paper, with a pale blue line across the bottom and a small smudge beside the date.
My signature was there. The ink was black. The pressure was uneven. It looked more convincing than the copy.
I photographed it under the office lights and sent the image to a forensic document examiner. She charged more than I liked and promised a preliminary opinion within two days.
Willa watched from the doorway.
"Are you going to report it?" she asked.
"I'm going to find out what it is first."
"You think somebody at Tideglass did this."
"I think someone signed my name."
"And if it was me?"
"Then I'll deal with it."
She leaned against the do
