Chương 14
Ryan looked at the time.
At 5:48 p.m., he had still been at the warehouse.
His timecard would prove it.
He almost said so, then stopped.
"Daniel."
"Yes?"
"I was working yesterday at five forty-eight."
"Can your employer document that?"
"Badge logs, time clock, cameras."
"Excellent."
Ryan hated the sudden surge of satisfaction he felt.
Nothing about this was excellent.
Still, proof gave him something solid to stand on.
Hargrove said, "Preserve your work records as soon as reasonably possible."
"I can call my supervisor."
"Do that."
"Should I call police?"
The question came out before Ryan had decided to ask it.
Nora's eyes moved to him.
Hargrove took a second before answering.
"I'm an estate attorney, not your criminal counsel."
"Okay."
"But if you believe someone forged your signature and falsely notarized your presence, reporting it would be reasonable."
Ryan stared at Denise's name.
"What happens to her?"
"That depends on facts we do not have yet."
"So you don't know."
"Correct."
Ryan appreciated the answer even while hating it.
Hargrove continued.
"I can also notify the estate administrator that the document is disputed and likely fraudulent."
"Do that."
"And my sisters' shares?"
"Unaffected at present."
Ryan rubbed his forehead.
"Could Mom have filed something for them too?"
"I have seen no such document."
"Would you tell me if you did?"
"I would tell each affected beneficiary directly."
Ryan understood the limit.
"Fine."
"One more thing."
Ryan braced.
"Your mother's voicemail last night indicated she believed your share should be redistributed."
"To my sisters."
"Yes."
"Did she say why?"
"She said you had agreed the money belonged to the women who stayed."
Ryan stopped.
"What does that mean?"
"I don't know."
Ryan looked at Nora.
The phrase sat between them.
The women who stayed.
Marla.
Paige.
Tessa.
Brooke.
The implication was obvious enough to make Ryan's chest hurt.
His father had left.
They had stayed.
Therefore the money was theirs.
Not legally.
Not rationally.
But family resentment rarely cared about either.
Hargrove said, "I'll call again after I've spoken with the administrator."
"Thank you."
Ryan ended the call.
Nora sat down slowly.
"Are you calling the police?"
Ryan looked toward the hallway.
He could see the edge of the bedroom where clothing still lay scattered.
"Yes."
Nora nodded.
No relief.
No victory.
Just acceptance.
Ryan picked up the yellow note.
"First I'm calling work."
His supervisor answered on the third ring sounding irritated until Ryan identified himself.
"Mercer, you're not coming in today."
It was not a question.
"My wife was in the hospital."
The irritation vanished.
"Jesus."
"She's home."
"Baby?"
"Okay."
"Then don't even think about coming in."
Ryan swallowed.
His supervisor, Hank Bell, had spent twenty years managing men who believed showing up sick was a personality trait.
Concern from him usually arrived disguised as profanity.
"I need a favor."
"Already hate it."
"I need yesterday's time records preserved."
Hank went quiet.
"For what?"
"Possible fraud."
Another silence.
"Your fraud?"
"Somebody used my signature on a document and claimed I signed it yesterday evening."
"At work?"
"They claim I was somewhere else."
Hank understood immediately.
"You punched out at eight-oh-six."
"Yeah."
"I saw you at seven-thirty."
"Can you save the logs?"
"I can put in a request."
"What about cameras?"
"Security office keeps loading dock footage thirty days unless flagged."
"Can you flag it?"
"Yeah."
Hank paused.
"Mercer."
"Yeah?"
"Do I need to be worried somebody's gonna show up here?"
Ryan thought of Marla.
Paige.
The blue envelope.
"No."
Then he corrected himself.
"I don't think so."
"That answer sucks."
"I know."
"Thanks."
"You have PTO left?"
"Some."
"Use it."
"I can't afford much."
"Use it anyway."
Ryan almost argued.
Then he looked at Nora.
"Okay."
Hank sounded surprised.
"Well, damn."
"Don't make it weird."
"Too late."
They hung up.
Nora smiled faintly.
"I like Hank."
"Hank thinks salad is suspicious."
"I didn't say I wanted to marry him."
Ryan looked at her.
"Good to clarify."
The humor disappeared when Nora reached for a glass of water.
Her hand trembled slightly.
Ryan noticed.
She noticed him noticing.
"Don't."
"I'm not doing anything."
"Your eyebrows are doing things."
He sat across from her.
"Drink."
She did.
He hated how closely he watched.
The hospital had given them instructions.
Hydration.
Food.
Rest.
Not hover over Nora until she became another task to manage.
He stood.
"I'm making eggs."
Nora stared at him.
"Threatening me after hospitalization seems cruel."
"I can make toast."
"Safer."
Ryan found bread.
Two slices left.
He put them in the toaster.
Then he opened the refrigerator again.
Almost empty.
That practical insult brought his anger back with surprising force.
His family had not simply invaded the apartment.
They had consumed it.
Milk.
Fruit.
Deli meat.
The yogurt Nora liked.
The freezer meals Ryan had made on Sunday.
All gone.
He looked at the trash overflowing beside the counter.
Nora followed his gaze.
"Don't start cleaning."
"I'm not."
"You have the bag face."
"What is the bag face?"
"You look at trash like it's challenged your honor."
Ryan turned away from the garbage.
"Fine."
The toast popped.
He spread peanut butter on Nora's slice because it was one of the few things left.
He ate his dry.
She noticed.
"There's enough."
"I'm fine."
Nora put half of hers on his plate.
He started to object.
She raised one eyebrow.
Ryan ate it.
That tiny act embarrassed him more than it should have.
He had spent years giving away money, food, time, weekends, sleep.
Accepting half a piece of toast from his pregnant wife felt harder.
At 9:12, Ryan called the non-emergency police line.
The dispatcher asked whether the forgery was happening now.
"No."
Whether anyone was in immediate danger.
"No."
Whether Ryan had the disputed document.
"Yes."
Whether he knew the alleged notary personally.
"Yes."
The dispatcher said an officer could come to the apartment when available.
No promised time.
May you like
Ryan thanked her.
Afterward, he photographed the yellow page from Thomas's lockbox and emailed it to himself.
