The blue Chevrolet remained suspended above the driveway.
Daniel looked at the bottom of the page.
Then turned toward his workers.
"Stop the operation."
Patricia frowned.
"Excuse me?"
Daniel raised one hand.
"Nobody moves this vehicle another inch."
The crane operator immediately stopped adjusting the equipment.
Patricia's smile disappeared.
"What are you doing?"
Daniel held the paper between two fingers.
He looked toward me.
Then toward the woman in pink.
"Where did you get this authorization?"
Patricia straightened.
"From the association's legal department."
Daniel's expression became unreadable.
"Who signed it?"
She glanced toward the bottom.
"Your company."
"Who specifically?"
Patricia's face hardened.
"Mr. Whitaker, I don't appreciate being interrogated by my own contractor."
He stared at her.
Then slowly pointed toward the signature.
"This is my name."
She smiled.
"Exactly."
Daniel looked at her for a long moment.
Then said five words that changed the entire afternoon.
"I never signed this document."
Patricia went completely still.
I stared at him.
"What?"
Daniel turned the page toward me.
At the bottom was a signature in black ink.
Daniel Whitaker.
Underneath appeared a company authorization stamp and a reference number.
The towing supervisor looked furious.
"That's my signature," he said. "And I never authorized this removal."
Patricia laughed nervously.
"There must be some confusion."
Daniel shook his head.
"No."
He pointed to the reference number.
"That isn't even one of our current authorization numbers."
Her smile faltered.
He looked toward the recovery truck.
"Lower it. Slowly. Back onto the driveway."
The operator nodded.
Patricia stepped forward.
"You can't do that!"
Daniel looked directly at her.
"Watch me."
The winch began moving.
My Silverado descended carefully toward the concrete.
For the first time since I arrived, I felt able to breathe.
Then Patricia grabbed Daniel's arm.