Chương 16
Every thought in my head stopped.
“From what?”
“From the project.”
I stood.
“He encouraged the affair?”
“No.”
“Be precise.”
“He encouraged Victor to spend more time with me.”
“For work.”
“At first.”
“And after he knew?”
“He didn’t stop it.”
That was different.
Still ugly.
But different.
I heard Helen’s voice in my head.
Do not let family drama persuade you to become a witness before you understand what you witnessed.
“What do you want from me?”
“I need Victor.”
“No.”
“Penelope.”
“No.”
“He won’t answer me.”
“That is no longer my problem.”
“You don’t understand.”
“I understand enough.”
“If Walter finds him first—”
She stopped.
My skin went cold.
“What?”
Nothing.
“Naomi.”
“He thinks Victor has copies.”
“Copies of what?”
“The original environmental sampling data.”
“Does he?”
“I don’t know.”
“Why would Walter think he does?”
“Because Victor took a project laptop last night.”
I stood so fast the chair scraped backward.
“Where is Victor now?”
“I don’t know.”
I ended the call and dialed him.
Straight to voicemail.
Again.
Voicemail.
I called Samantha back.
“Where was Victor going when he left?”
“He didn’t say.”
“Did he take his car?”
“Yes.”
“What kind of project laptop?”
“What?”
“Naomi says Victor took one.”
Samantha was silent.
Then she said, “Dad’s old field laptop.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know.”
“Was it in the basement?”
“Yes.”
“Could Victor access it?”
“Apparently.”
I looked toward my bedroom.
Abigail was standing in the doorway.
She had heard enough to know something was wrong.
I held up one finger.
“Call Victor.”
“He’s not answering me.”
“Keep trying.”
“What are you doing?”
“Leaving.”
“For the airport?”
“Yes.”
The word came out before I had fully decided.
But once I said it, the decision felt right.
Not because Victor was safe.
Not because Crescent Ridge did not matter.
Because my daughters had spent enough mornings waiting while adults chose chaos over them.
I ended the call.
Abigail looked at me.
“Is Dad in trouble?”
“I don’t know.”
Her face tightened.
“Are we still going?”
I walked to her.
“Yes.”
“What if he needs us?”
“He has adults who can help him.”
“What if he needs you?”
The question hurt.
I glanced at the packed suitcases.
Then back at my daughter.
“He had me.”
Abigail stared at me.
I softened my voice.
“For a long time.”
She nodded slowly.
At 8:41, I called the airport car service and asked whether they could come earlier.
They could.
At 9:03, while I was zipping Charlotte’s suitcase, Victor finally called.
I answered immediately.
“Where are you?”
“In my car.”
“Where?”
“Parking garage downtown.”
“Whose?”
“The Reynolds building.”
“Why?”
“I needed somewhere private.”
“Your father is looking for you.”
“I know.”
“What did you take from the house?”
“A laptop.”
“Why?”
“Because Samantha told me Dad burned documents.”
I closed my eyes.
“You should have called a lawyer.”
“I did.”
“Before or after taking the laptop?”
“After.”
“Of course.”
“I’m not opening anything.”
“Good.”
“I’m waiting for counsel.”
Some tension left my shoulders.
“Is your father there?”
“No.”
“You’re sure?”
“Yes.”
“Naomi says he thinks you have original sampling data.”
Victor went silent.
“Do you?”
“I don’t know.”
“That phrase is going to kill me.”
“I haven’t accessed the laptop.”
“Then keep it that way.”
He exhaled.
“Are the girls awake?”
“Yes.”
“Can I talk to them?”
I looked toward the living room.
Charlotte was trying to sit on her suitcase to close it.
Abigail was helping.
“We’re leaving early.”
His silence lasted too long.
“For the airport?”
“Yes.”
“I thought three.”
“Plans changed.”
“Because of this?”
“Partly.”
“Penelope.”
“No.”
“I wasn’t going to ask you to stay.”
That surprised me.
“Oh.”
“I just wanted to know.”
“We’ll be at the airport before noon.”
He breathed out slowly.
“Okay.”
I waited.
Then he said, “I found the money.”
My stomach tightened.
“The two hundred thousand?”
“Yes.”
“Where?”
“In an account Dad opened under a holding company.”
“That is not you finding it.”
“My name is on the transfer authorization.”
“Did you sign it?”
“No.”
I stopped breathing.
“Victor.”
“I did not sign it.”
“Then someone forged your signature.”
“Yes.”
The word came quietly.
Behind me, Abigail asked Charlotte to stop sitting on the zipper.
I closed my eyes.
“Call your attorney.”
“He’s on his way.”
“Do not call Walter.”
“I won’t.”
“Do not call Naomi.”
“I won’t.”
“And Victor.”
“Yes?”
“Do not turn this into another chance to prove something.”
He was silent.
Then he said, “I think I’ve done enough of that.”
For once, I believed him.
I handed the phone to Abigail.
“Your dad wants to talk to you.”
She took it and walked toward the window.
Charlotte immediately demanded her turn.
I returned to the suitcases.
Ten minutes later, Abigail brought the phone back.
Her eyes were red but dry.
“He said he’s proud of me.”
I swallowed.
“That’s good.”
“He also said he’s sorry.”
“That’s good too.”
She looked at the suitcase.
“Do you think he means it?”
I thought about all the apologies people gave when consequences finally arrived.
Some were selfish.
Some were real.
Most were both.
“I think he wants to.”
Abigail nodded.
That answer seemed enough.
At 9:37, the intercom buzzed.
I expected the car service.
Instead, Miriam’s voice came through the speaker.
“Penelope, please let me up.”
I closed my eyes.
Of course.
I pressed the button.
“We’re leaving.”
“I know.”
“I’m not coming to the house.”
“I know.”
“Then why are you here?”
Her voice broke.
“Because I need to see my granddaughters before they go.”
I looked at Abigail.
She had heard.
Charlotte had too.
“Grandma?”
she said.
I pressed the entry release.
Miriam came upstairs without Walter.
That alone made her look smaller.
She carried no gifts.
No flowers.
No carefully wrapped promises.
Just her handbag and a cardigan buttoned wrong.
Charlotte ran to her.
Miriam dropped to her knees and held her.
Then Abigail joined them.
May you like
I looked away.
Whatever else Miriam had failed to do, her grief at losing them was real.
