Chương 10
He typed, Why are you telling me this now?
Brooke's answer came faster.
Because Mom is freaking me out.
Ryan sat down.
"What does that mean?" Nora asked.
He showed her.
Brooke continued.
She made us leave your place and then took Paige somewhere.
Ryan typed, Storage facility.
Brooke sent:
Yeah.
Then:
She said you stole something from her.
Ryan typed, Did she tell you what?
No.
Ryan hesitated.
Nora shook her head before he could ask about the inheritance.
He deleted the question.
Instead he wrote, Where are you now?
At Tessa's friend's apartment.
Mom and Paige aren't here.
When did they leave?
Like ten minutes ago.
Ryan checked the time.
1:29.
"Where would they go?"
Nora asked.
Ryan thought of the apartment, storage facility, Marla's house, Paige's car.
Then Brooke sent another message.
She took your old folder.
Ryan's breathing changed.
What folder?
From the box in Mom's garage.
Dad's stuff.
Ryan sat perfectly still.
There had been one box after his father left.
Tax returns.
Old insurance statements.
A few photographs.
Ryan's high-school wrestling certificate because his father had somehow packed it with his own papers.
Marla had kept the box for years while claiming she wanted nothing that reminded her of Thomas Mercer.
Ryan typed, What old folder?
Brooke replied:
Brown accordion thing.
She said it has proof.
Proof of what?
Three dots.
Then:
That Dad owed her.
Ryan read it twice.
Nora leaned in.
Brooke sent one final line.
Paige asked why they needed proof if the money belongs to us.
Ryan looked at Nora.
"What did Marla say?"
Nora asked.
Ryan typed the question.
Brooke did not answer.
A minute passed.
Then two.
Ryan tried calling.
Straight to voicemail.
He called again.
Same result.
Nora watched him.
"Maybe her phone died."
"Or someone took it."
"Don't jump."
"I'm not jumping."
"You are halfway across the canyon."
Ryan put the phone down.
He stood again.
This time Nora let him pace.
Three steps toward the window.
Three steps back.
His mind kept circling the same pieces.
His father's trust.
The sisters' notices.
Marla's questions.
A disclaimer.
A signature.
A folder supposedly proving Thomas owed Marla money.
None of it fit cleanly.
That mattered.
Real things rarely fit cleanly.
Ryan stopped.
"Mom thinks Dad's money should be hers."
Nora nodded cautiously.
"Maybe."
"Not because she's beneficiary."
"No."
"Because she thinks he owed her."
"That sounds like what Brooke heard."
Ryan looked toward the hallway.
"She spent fifteen years saying she wanted nothing from him."
"People say things."
"She threw away his birthday cards."
"Did she?"
Ryan looked at her.
"What?"
Nora's expression changed.
"You told me she threw them away."
"She told me she did."
"That's different."
Ryan stared.
Nora said, "Did you ever see her throw them away?"
He opened his mouth.
Closed it.
A memory came uninvited.
He was seventeen.
Standing in Marla's laundry room looking for batteries.
A stack of envelopes sat inside a grocery bag on the shelf above the dryer.
His father's handwriting.
Ryan had assumed they were unopened.
Maybe they had been.
Maybe not.
At seventeen, he had wanted very badly for his mother to be right about everything.
It made abandonment simpler.
Ryan sat beside Nora again.
"I don't know anything about my own family."
Nora looked at him.
"You know some things."
"Apparently not useful things."
"You know Paige grabs when she's angry."
"That one's new."
"You know Tessa panics when she thinks she'll lose somewhere to stay."
"Yeah."
"You know Brooke is scared of your mom right now."
Ryan nodded.
"And you know your mother is trying very hard to control who sees what."
He looked at Nora.
She continued.
"That's enough to know what not to do tonight."
"Which is?"
"Don't give her more information."
Ryan leaned back.
"You're annoyingly good at this."
"I've spent four days trapped in an apartment with your family."
"Advanced training."
"Combat certification."
He smiled despite himself.
Then his phone rang.
Marla.
Ryan and Nora both looked at it.
He let it ring three times.
Four.
Five.
Then he answered.
"Hello."
Marla's voice was softer than before.
That was worse.
"Ryan, I need you to listen to me."
He glanced at Nora.
"I'm listening."
"What your father left behind is not what you think."
Ryan said nothing.
Marla continued.
"He owed me money."
"How much?"
"More than that trust is worth."
Ryan felt Nora's fingers close around his wrist.
"What for?"
"Years."
"That's not an amount."
"Do not get smart with me."
There she was.
Ryan almost relaxed.
"What did he owe you for?"
Marla breathed out slowly.
"Everything."
Ryan waited.
She seemed to realize the answer sounded weaker once spoken.
"The house."
"Which house?"
"Our house."
"You sold it eleven years ago."
"After he destroyed the mortgage."
Ryan frowned.
"What does that mean?"
"You were a child."
"I was fourteen."
"You didn't know what was happening."
"Then tell me."
Silence.
He could hear a car engine behind her.
"Where are you?"
Marla ignored the question.
"Your father cleaned out accounts."
Ryan looked at Nora.
"He left us with nothing."
Ryan's first instinct was to say he knew.
He stopped.
Did he?
He knew Marla's version.
He knew his father disappeared.
He knew the electricity had been shut off once that winter.
He knew Marla had cried in the pantry because she thought the children couldn't hear.
Those were facts.
The rest had always come through her.
"Do you have records?"
Ryan asked.
Marla went quiet.
"What?"
"You said you have proof."
"Who told you that?"
Ryan said nothing.
Her breathing sharpened.
"Was it Brooke?"
He looked at Nora.
"Do you have records?"
"Your father owed me."
"That's not what I asked."
"You sound exactly like him."
The sentence hit its old target.
For years, that comparison had been enough to make Ryan retreat.
Tonight it only made him tired.
"Then show the records to the estate lawyer."
May you like
"I don't need permission from some lawyer to recover what's mine."
"Actually, I think you do."
