Chương 9
Daniel did not move.
“What does it say?”
The deputy glanced toward the side room.
“Not here.”
Daniel’s patience snapped.
“She is nine years old, she is sitting ten feet away, and every person in this building has spent the last hour deciding what I’m allowed to know.”
The deputy held his gaze.
“I’m trying not to discuss a child’s financial records in front of eighty wedding guests.”
That stopped him.
Daniel looked around.
People were pretending not to listen again.
Some stared at the flowers.
One elderly aunt had become intensely interested in the clasp of her handbag.
“Fine.”
He turned toward Mark.
“Stay with the door.”
Mark nodded.
Daniel followed the deputy into the narrow preparation room behind the altar.
It smelled faintly of coffee, hairspray, and damp wool.
A half-eaten blueberry muffin sat beside a box of tissues.
Someone had left Vanessa’s bouquet on a folding chair.
The deputy closed the door but did not latch it.
His younger partner stood near a small counter with the clear evidence bag resting beside him.
“You said one document names Mia.”
“Yes.”
“Which document?”
The younger deputy looked at the bag.
“A draft consent concerning a custodial trust.”
Daniel stared.
“She doesn’t have a custodial trust with Eric.”
“Does she have one at all?”
“Yes.”
The word came slowly.
Daniel had created it after Mia’s mother died.
Most of the assets came from life insurance and a settlement connected to the accident.
Daniel had added money every year.
The trust was supposed to pay for school, medical needs, and eventually give Mia a protected inheritance when she was older.
His sister served as independent co-trustee.
“What does the document do?”
The deputy shook his head.
“I’m not going to interpret legal language for you.”
“Then tell me what you saw.”
“It appears to propose replacing a trustee.”
Daniel’s stomach tightened.
“Which trustee?”
“Your sister.”
“With whom?”
The younger deputy said, “Vanessa Cole.”
Daniel stared at him.
For a moment he heard nothing except the low hum of the chapel ventilation system.
“That’s impossible.”
The older deputy’s expression remained neutral.
“Why?”
“My sister can’t just be replaced.”
“We’re not saying she was.”
“Then what exactly are you saying?”
“That a draft document exists.”
Daniel looked at the evidence bag.
“Was it signed?”
“One signature line appears to have your name.”
The room seemed to narrow.
“My real signature?”
“We don’t know.”
“Eric had another forged signature.”
“We’re aware.”
Daniel put both hands on the counter.
The laminate surface was cold beneath his palms.
“Who else signed?”
The younger deputy hesitated.
“Vanessa.”
Daniel shut his eyes.
A memory came without warning.
Mia at the kitchen table three weeks earlier, coloring a horse green because she had lost the brown pencil.
Vanessa standing behind her with a stack of papers.
Daniel signing where yellow tabs told him to sign.
Mia asking whether horses could be green if nobody had seen every horse in the world.
Daniel answering that it seemed unlikely.
Vanessa laughing.
The kettle whistling.
A completely ordinary evening.
“How many documents did I sign that night?”
The deputies exchanged a glance.
Neither could answer.
Daniel straightened.
“I need my lawyer.”
“That would be smart.”
“I need my sister.”
“Call both.”
“And I need the original papers from my house.”
The deputy lifted a hand.
“Don’t go collecting anything until you’ve spoken with counsel.”
“It’s my house.”
“I understand.”
“No, I don’t think you do.”
His voice rose.
The deputy waited.
Daniel lowered it.
“Sorry.”
The word tasted strange.
The deputy nodded.
“If there are documents connected to what happened here, you don’t want to create a question later about what was moved, destroyed, added, or changed.”
Daniel knew he was right.
He hated him for being right.
“So I can’t even go home.”
“You can go home.”
“That’s not what you just said.”
“I said don’t start gathering potential evidence.”
Daniel rubbed both hands over his face.
The younger deputy looked toward the door.
“Do you want us to bring your daughter in?”
“No.”
The answer came immediately.
Then Daniel reconsidered.
“Yes.”
Both deputies waited.
He shook his head.
“No.”
The older one said nothing.
Daniel exhaled.
“I don’t know.”
It was the first useful thing he had said in several minutes.
The deputy leaned against the wall.
“You don’t have to decide everything in the next thirty seconds.”
Daniel looked at him.
“Everybody keeps telling me decisions have already been made.”
“Then maybe don’t make any more bad ones quickly.”
There was no comfort in the sentence.
That helped.
Daniel nodded.
“I need five minutes.”
The deputies left him alone.
He sat on a metal folding chair.
Vanessa’s bouquet remained on the chair opposite him, white roses wrapped in ivory ribbon.
He had helped choose them.
He had pretended to have opinions about ranunculus.
The florist had corrected his pronunciation three times.
He stared at the bouquet until it became ridiculous.
Then he laughed.
One quiet breath of laughter.
It turned into something closer to a cough.
The door opened.
Mark looked in.
“You okay?”
“No.”
“Good.”
Daniel looked up.
“Good?”
“Because if you said yes, I’d hit you.”
Daniel almost smiled.
Mark came inside and closed the door behind him.
“What happened?”
Daniel told him.
Mark’s face changed at Mia’s name.
“No.”
“That was my response.”
“Our sister would never sign that.”
“I know.”
“You’re sure?”
Daniel looked at him.
Mark held up both hands.
“Bad question.”
“She wouldn’t.”
“I know.”
Daniel leaned forward, elbows on his knees.
“I signed things.”
“So?”
“I signed things without reading them.”
“You sign six hundred things a month.”
“That is not helping.”
“I’m not trying to help.”
Mark sat on the other chair, then noticed the bouquet occupying it.
He picked it up awkwardly.
“What do I do with this?”
Daniel stared.
“I have no idea.”
Mark put it on the counter.
Several petals fell off.
Both men looked at them.
Mark said, “There.”
May you like
Daniel laughed despite himself.
It lasted only a second.
