Chương 4
“What are you worried I’m going to do?”
“I don’t know yet.”
“Helpful.”
“You called me because you wanted the laptop.”
“I called because I needed the laptop.”
“And because you didn’t trust yourself to leave this alone.”
I stared at him.
Marcus lowered his voice.
“You’ve got potential evidence tied to an assault, possible extortion, possible corruption, and maybe something involving your father’s death.”
“Maybe.”
“That word matters.”
“I know.”
“Then use it.”
I rubbed both hands over my face.
I had slept four hours in two days.
My eyes felt full of sand.
“I heard what Wade said.”
“So did I.”
“He said not the road again.”
“I heard that too.”
“What does that sound like to you?”
“It sounds bad.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“It’s the only responsible one.”
I hated him for being disciplined when I wanted him to be my friend.
That lasted about three seconds.
Then I hated myself instead.
“What would you do?”
“Make copies.”
“Done.”
“Document where the original came from.”
“Doing that.”
“Get Kayla legal counsel before she signs anything.”
I looked toward the kitchen door.
“She can’t afford counsel.”
“Then find someone who can take it.”
“You got a lawyer in the SUV?”
“No.”
“Disappointing.”
His mouth moved.
Almost a smile.
“Get this outside local control.”
“That part I planned.”
“State bureau?”
“Maybe.”
“FBI?”
“Too early unless we can show a federal hook.”
“There she is.”
I looked at him.
“Who?”
“My commander.”
For reasons I could not explain, that made me angry.
“I’m not commanding anything here.”
“No.”
He glanced toward the kitchen.
“You’re a daughter here.”
That sentence found the bruise.
I stepped away from him.
He did not follow.
When I returned to the kitchen, my mother had taken off her sling.
I stared at her.
“What are you doing?”
“It itches.”
“You have a fracture.”
“I also have skin.”
“Put it back on.”
“You are not my doctor.”
“No, I’m the person who just watched you hit a floor because you refused to sell a parking lot.”
“The parcel behind the diner is not a parking lot.”
“Fine.”
“It’s four-tenths of an acre.”
“Mom.”
“Your father planted two pear trees there.”
I stopped.
That was exactly the kind of irrelevant detail she used when she was trying not to answer something.
One of the trees had died when I was sixteen.
My father kept watering the stump for a month because he refused to admit it.
“What did Dad know?”
She looked toward Kayla.
“Not here.”
Kayla immediately started toward the door.
“No,” I said.
My mother frowned.
“She’s already in this.”
“She shouldn’t be.”
“She was in it when Travis looked at her before he left.”
Kayla folded her arms.
“I’m definitely in it.”
My mother gave her a tired look.
“You have terrible judgment.”
“I work here.”
“That proves my point.”
Kayla laughed once, despite herself.
Then my mother sat at the small employee table.
The chair seemed too hard for her now.
She adjusted twice before finding a position that did not pull at her shoulder.
“Your father started keeping notes after the county condemned the rear storage shed.”
I sat across from her.
Marcus stayed near the doorway.
“The shed that collapsed?”
“It didn’t collapse.”
I remembered twisted sheet metal, caution tape, and my father complaining over the phone that the county inspector had a personal grudge.
At the time I had been preparing for deployment.
I had listened to half the story while packing.
“What happened?”
“Someone cut two braces.”
“How do you know?”
“He found the saw marks.”
“Did he report it?”
She laughed without humor.
“To Don.”
That answered more than she intended.
“What came next?”
“A septic complaint.”
“We were on municipal sewer.”
“Yes.”
“A lien?”
“Filed against the wrong parcel first, then corrected.”
“Inspection issues?”
“The hood system.”
“Fire marshal?”
“Passed us in March, failed us in April, passed us again after Frank hired an engineer.”
I leaned back.
A pattern did not prove a conspiracy, but patterns mattered.
Especially when they consumed money.
“How much did it cost you?”
“Too much.”
“Numbers.”
“Nicole.”
“Numbers.”
My mother rubbed her thumb over a coffee stain on the table.
“Twenty-eight thousand over about three years.”
That was not enough to ruin a successful restaurant.
It was enough to wear down an aging couple who did not know what problem would appear next.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“You were in Afghanistan.”
“I was not in Afghanistan for three straight years.”
“You were always somewhere.”
The words came out sharper than she meant them to.
Neither of us moved.
Kayla stared at the refrigerator.
Marcus became fascinated by a shelf of industrial ketchup bottles.
My mother looked down.
“I didn’t mean that.”
“Yes, you did.”
She pressed her lips together.
The truth was ugly because it belonged partly to me.
I had called home.
I had sent money when Dad mentioned repairs.
I had visited when schedules allowed.
I had also spent years accepting my parents’ edited version of their lives because it made leaving easier.
“What happened the night Dad died?”
My mother’s fingers stopped moving.
“He was meeting someone.”
“Who?”
“I don’t know.”
“That’s not true.”
“I don’t know the name.”
“What did he tell you?”
“That he had found someone inside Cain Realty willing to talk.”
My chest tightened.
“He went alone?”
“He said the person was scared.”
“And where was the meeting?”
“An old feed store off Route 9.”
“What time?”
“Ten.”
“His crash was called in at ten forty-three.”
“I know.”
“Who called it in?”
She looked at me.
“I never asked.”
I already knew what I was doing before I stood.
Marcus did too.
He caught my arm lightly.
“Not Harper.”
“I wasn’t going to Harper.”
“Where?”
“County dispatch records.”
“They may not release them.”
“I know.”
“Nicole.”
“I know.”
I pulled away more sharply than necessary.
He released me.
My mother said, “There’s something else.”
May you like
I stopped.
She was looking at the floor.
