Chương 11
Dad closed his eyes briefly.
Mom sat down on an old patio chair near the freezer.
No one spoke for several seconds.
Then Dad looked at me.
“We’ll replace everything.”
I almost asked with what money.
I stopped myself.
Not because I wanted to spare him.
Because the answer no longer mattered.
“I need the chest back at work today.”
“We’ll load it.”
“And I need a full inventory.”
Dad nodded.
“I said we’ll handle it.”
“No.”
He looked at me.
“I’ll handle my inventory.”
His jaw tightened at the correction.
I continued.
“Anything missing or damaged gets documented.”
“For insurance?”
“For whatever comes next.”
Logan looked up.
“What does that mean?”
“It means I’m done pretending this is normal.”
Mom stood.
“You are not calling the police.”
I looked at her.
“I haven’t decided.”
“He’s twenty years old.”
“Yes.”
“A record could ruin his life.”
I glanced at Logan.
“He came into my workplace, lied, took thousands of dollars in property, and sold some of it.”
“He made a mistake.”
“No.”
This time Dad spoke.
Mom turned toward him.
Frank stared at Logan.
“He didn’t make a mistake.”
His voice was low.
“He stole from his brother.”
Logan flinched.
Dad looked at me then.
For the first time since I had left the house, he did not look angry.
He looked ashamed.
“I helped him do it.”
The admission sat between us.
He swallowed.
“I didn’t ask you.”
I said nothing.
“I just assumed.”
His mouth tightened.
“That’s on me.”
It was not an apology.
Not yet.
But it was the first crack in something I had believed would never move.
I wheeled the chest toward Dad’s truck.
Behind me, Logan’s phone buzzed again.
He pulled it out.
The color drained from his face.
Mom saw it.
“What?”
Logan locked the screen.
“Nothing.”
Dad stepped toward him.
“What is it?”
Logan backed away.
“I said nothing.”
I watched his hand tighten around the phone.
Then another notification appeared across the locked screen.
The message preview was short enough for all of us to read.
PAY TONIGHT OR I SEND EVERYTHING.
Dad held out his hand.
“Give me the phone.”
Logan shook his head.
“No.”
“Give it to me.”
“You’ll just make it worse.”
“That depends on what you did.”
Logan backed toward the workbench.
Mom’s face had gone pale.
“What does ‘send everything’ mean?”
“It’s not what you think.”
“That is not an answer.”
“He has screenshots.”
“Of what?”
Logan looked at me as if I had somehow become the safest person in the garage.
I did not like that feeling.
“Stuff from Discord.”
Dad frowned.
“What kind of stuff?”
“Messages.”
“We established that.”
Logan’s mouth tightened.
“Private messages.”
Mom stepped closer.
“About us?”
“Some.”
Dad’s hand dropped.
“About what?”
Logan stared at the floor.
“I complained.”
Mom gave a short, nervous laugh.
“Everybody complains.”
“Not like this.”
The garage seemed hotter suddenly.
I leaned against the tool chest.
“What did you say about me?”
Logan looked at me.
That hesitation answered enough.
“Say it.”
“I was mad.”
“So?”
“I said you were cheap.”
I almost smiled.
“That’s disappointing.”
“There’s more.”
“Of course there is.”
He rubbed both hands over his face.
“I said you hid money from the family.”
Dad’s eyes shifted toward me.
“Why would you say that?”
“Because you moved out and wouldn’t help.”
“That happened after you borrowed the money.”
Logan froze.
I straightened.
“When did you borrow from this guy?”
He looked toward the driveway again.
“Months ago.”
“How many months?”
“Like five.”
Dad’s face changed.
“So none of this started because Evan moved.”
“No.”
Mom lowered herself back into the patio chair.
“Then why did you tell us it did?”
“I didn’t.”
“You let us think it.”
Logan said nothing.
Dad took a step toward him.
“Five months ago, you borrowed almost three thousand dollars from a stranger, and we’re only hearing about it because he’s threatening you?”
“He’s not a stranger.”
Dad laughed once.
It had no humor in it.
“What’s his last name?”
Logan blinked.
Dad waited.
“What is his last name?”
“I don’t know.”
“Where does he live?”
“I don’t know exactly.”
“How old is he?”
“I think twenty-three.”
Dad turned away and muttered something under his breath.
I watched Logan’s phone.
“Did you ever meet him?”
“No.”
“Did he send you the money electronically?”
“Yes.”
“Did he ask for collateral?”
“What?”
“Did he ask you for anything before lending it?”
Logan shook his head.
“He said he believed in the channel.”
That sounded wrong.
Not impossible.
Wrong.
“What did he want in return?”
“A cut.”
“Of what?”
“Future stream income.”
I looked at Mom.
She looked as confused as I felt.
“How much of a cut?”
“Thirty percent.”
Dad turned back around.
“You signed something?”
“No.”
“Then what are these screenshots supposed to prove?”
Logan swallowed.
“He had me send messages saying I owed him.”
I felt the first shift from family stupidity into something more serious.
“How much does he say you owe now?”
“Four thousand.”
Mom stood again.
“You said twenty-eight hundred.”
“That’s what I borrowed.”
“Why is it four?”
“Fees.”
Dad swore.
I held up a hand before he could start shouting.
“Logan, has this guy threatened anything besides posting messages?”
Logan’s eyes moved.
That was another answer.
“What else?”
“He said he knows where we live.”
Mom made a small sound.
Dad’s face hardened.
“How?”
“I sent him stuff.”
“What stuff?”
“Pictures.”
“Of the house?”
“Sometimes.”
Dad stared at him.
“You gave an internet stranger pictures of our house?”
“He follows my streams.”
“Your streams show your room.”
“Some outdoor stuff too.”
“What outdoor stuff?”
Logan looked toward the driveway.
“Car clips.”
I thought about license plates, street numbers, delivery labels, reflected addresses, location tags.
A person did not need much anymore.
“Has he ever shown you that he actually knows the address?”
Logan nodded.
“He sent it last night.”
Mom pressed her palm against her mouth.
May you like
Dad’s expression changed from anger to fear.
That was when the problem stopped being just Logan’s debt.
