Chương 16
Ryan had not added her.
Nora whispered, "Your mom knew the PIN."
Ryan nodded.
A colder thought followed.
Authorized users could not necessarily read messages, but they could access billing information, change certain service features, and potentially obtain account details depending on the carrier's policies.
Ryan changed the PIN.
Removed Marla.
Removed Paige.
Then he opened the line history.
His own number showed no obvious changes.
Nora's line had a service note from three days earlier.
SIM replacement inquiry.
Ryan stared at it.
"Did you lose your phone this week?"
"No."
"Did anyone ask about your SIM card?"
Nora's face changed.
"Paige asked why my phone kept dropping Wi-Fi."
"When?"
"Wednesday."
"Did she take it?"
"For a minute."
Ryan closed his eyes.
The inheritance.
The signatures.
The account access.
The bedroom.
The questions about insurance.
Nothing was isolated anymore.
His phone rang.
Hargrove again.
Ryan answered.
"I have an update," the lawyer said.
"So do I."
"Mine may need to go first."
Ryan straightened.
"What happened?"
"The estate administrator reviewed the disclaimer submission."
"And?"
"The email did not come from your mother."
Ryan looked at Nora.
"Whose email?"
Hargrove paused.
"Paige Mercer's."
Ryan did not answer immediately.
He put Hargrove on speaker and turned the phone toward Nora.
Hargrove continued.
"The account appears to belong to your sister."
"Can you tell when she sent it?"
"Six twelve this morning."
"With the forged document attached."
"Yes."
Ryan stared at the kitchen table.
"Did she write anything?"
"A brief message stating the attached disclaimer reflected your wishes."
Nora folded her arms over her stomach.
Ryan asked, "Can you preserve the email exactly as it came in?"
"Already done."
"Police may contact you."
"I expected that."
Ryan swallowed.
"Daniel, my mother is saying my father owed her money."
"That is separate from the trust unless she has a legally enforceable claim."
"I found a note from him."
"What kind of note?"
Ryan looked at the yellow paper.
"Something alleging she took money from their accounts before he left."
Hargrove was quiet for a moment.
"Do not assume either version is true simply because it is written down."
"I know."
"Good."
Ryan almost smiled.
"I'm starting to hate that word."
"You've had a long night."
"Yeah."
"Send me a copy if you want me to review whether it affects the estate."
Ryan said he would.
Then Hargrove added, "Mr. Mercer, your sisters' beneficiary rights remain intact."
Ryan's eyes moved to Nora.
"So Paige tried to increase her share by submitting my disclaimer."
"That is one possible interpretation."
"But you won't say that's why."
"Not without evidence."
Ryan exhaled.
"Fine."
He thanked him and ended the call.
For nearly a minute, the apartment was silent.
Then Nora said, "Paige sent it."
"Yeah."
"Your mom may have planned it, but Paige pressed send."
"Yeah."
Ryan picked up his phone.
Nora watched him.
"Don't call her."
"I'm not."
"What are you doing?"
"Blocking her."
He blocked Paige's number.
Then Marla's.
His thumb hovered over Tessa.
He stopped.
Brooke stayed unblocked.
Nora nodded once.
It was the first decision Ryan had made all morning that did not require a second explanation.
The police contacted him again before noon.
Officer Park asked him to forward the estate attorney's contact information and the screenshots from Brooke.
She also asked whether he could provide proof of his location at 5:48 the previous evening.
Hank had already emailed confirmation that Ryan's badge entered the employee break area at 5:42 and that he scanned inventory at 5:51.
Security footage could be preserved pending a formal request.
Ryan forwarded everything.
Then he sat back and waited for the satisfying feeling he had expected.
It did not come.
Nora was asleep on the couch with her feet elevated.
A half-full glass of water rested beside her.
Ryan looked around the apartment.
There were still dishes in the sink.
Still pizza boxes.
Still his family's mess.
He found a trash bag.
This time Nora was asleep, so nobody could stop him.
He moved slowly.
Not angrily.
Cups first.
Then boxes.
Then paper plates.
He threw away a half-eaten breadstick and found one of Paige's earrings beneath it.
For a second he considered keeping it as evidence of something.
Then he laughed at himself and put it in a small plastic bag with the other belongings they had left behind.
By one o'clock, he had four bags near the front door.
One for each woman.
He did not sort carefully.
He did not fold.
He simply separated anything obviously theirs from anything belonging to him or Nora.
When Tessa called at 1:18, he answered.
Her voice was already crying.
"Ryan."
"Hey."
"Mom said you called the police."
"I did."
"Why?"
Ryan looked at Nora sleeping.
"Because somebody forged my signature."
Tessa went quiet.
"Paige says you knew about it."
"I didn't."
"She said you told Mom the money should go to us."
"I didn't."
Another silence.
Then Tessa whispered, "I didn't even know there was money until last night."
Ryan sat down.
"You never got a letter?"
"No."
"Are you sure?"
"Why would I lie about that?"
"I don't know anymore."
That hurt her.
He heard it.
Ryan rubbed his forehead.
"Sorry."
"My mail goes to Derek's."
"You said you weren't going back there."
"I'm not."
"Can you get your mail?"
"Probably."
"Do it."
"Why?"
"Because the estate attorney sent you something six weeks ago."
Tessa was quiet.
Then she said, "Mom told us Dad left everything to you."
Ryan's hand stopped.
"She said what?"
"She said Grandma never forgave us for staying with her."
Ryan looked at the yellow note.
"That's not true."
"You know that?"
"I have the letter."
"What does it say?"
Ryan almost answered.
Then he thought about Hargrove.
Evidence.
Stories changing.
People deciding what they believed based on whoever spoke first.
He softened his voice.
"Call Daniel Hargrove."
"Who's that?"
"The estate attorney."
Ryan gave her the number.
"He'll tell you what you're entitled to."
Tessa started crying harder.
May you like
Not loudly.
Just that thin, embarrassed kind of crying she used to do in the bathroom when they were teenagers.
