Chương 10
Her body tensed.
“What?”
“An envelope.”
“What kind?”
“Old.”
“That is not a kind.”
“It has Claire’s handwriting.”
Rachel stood.
“What does it say?”
“On the outside?”
“Yes.”
“My name.”
“Open it.”
Daniel hesitated.
Rachel heard the resistance in the silence.
“What?”
“I think she meant me to find this before now.”
Rachel’s throat tightened.
“Why didn’t you?”
“It was behind the bottom drawer.”
“What does that mean?”
“My desk drawer sticks.”
“Daniel.”
“I’m opening it.”
Paper tore softly through the phone.
Rachel waited.
She hated waiting.
It gave imagination too much room.
Daniel did not speak.
“What is it?”
Still nothing.
“Daniel.”
“I’m reading.”
“What does it say?”
He took a breath.
“It’s a letter.”
“Read it.”
“I don’t think I should read the whole thing over the phone.”
“Why?”
“Because some of it is about our marriage.”
His marriage to Claire.
Rachel sat down again.
The jealousy that rose in her embarrassed her with its timing.
A dead woman had written something private to her husband, and Rachel’s first ugly instinct was resentment at being excluded.
She pushed it away.
“Does it mention Margaret?”
“Yes.”
“My father?”
A pause.
“Yes.”
Rachel looked at the bedroom door.
“How?”
“Claire says she found out what the payments were for.”
Rachel’s heart began beating harder.
“What were they for?”
Daniel did not answer immediately.
Rachel heard paper shift again.
“Daniel.”
“She says Mom wasn’t paying Thomas to alter the insurance claim.”
Rachel closed her eyes.
Relief came too quickly and vanished just as fast.
“Then why?”
“She says the payments started before the fire.”
“I know that.”
“She says Thomas was buying properties for Mom.”
Rachel frowned.
“That makes no sense.”
“It gets worse.”
“Of course it does.”
Daniel read silently for another moment.
Then he said, “Apparently Mom couldn’t buy them in her own name.”
“Why?”
“Because Harold would have seen the transactions.”
Rachel leaned forward.
“What transactions?”
“Tax sales.”
“Tax sales where?”
“Mostly around the lake.”
“My father bought tax-sale properties for Margaret?”
“That’s what Claire wrote.”
Rachel stared at the dark laptop screen.
Her father had never owned property around a lake.
At least not under his own name.
“What was Margaret trying to do?”
Daniel inhaled slowly.
“Claire believed Mom was acquiring parcels around Harold’s house.”
“Why?”
“To pressure him into selling.”
“Selling the lake house?”
“Yes.”
“To Margaret?”
“To a developer.”
Rachel sat very still.
The idea was so ordinary that it felt more dangerous than a dramatic conspiracy.
Land.
Money.
A family argument turned into leverage.
Not a secret society or an elaborate plot.
Just property lines and people willing to lie.
“What developer?”
“Claire doesn’t name them.”
“Why would my father help?”
“She says he got a percentage.”
Rachel looked down at her hand.
It had begun trembling again.
“How much?”
“She doesn’t know.”
Rachel pictured her father’s old sedan.
The carefully folded grocery coupons.
His lectures about saving electricity.
A percentage of land deals did not fit.
Unless the money had gone somewhere else.
“Does Claire say he knew about the fire?”
Daniel went silent.
Rachel felt the room narrow.
“Daniel.”
“She wasn’t sure.”
“That’s not the same as no.”
“No.”
“What exactly did she write?”
He hesitated.
Then he read a single sentence.
“Thomas may not have known what Margaret planned, but after the fire he knew enough to be afraid of her.”
Rachel’s mouth went dry.
“Afraid how?”
“There’s more.”
“Read it.”
Daniel took another breath.
“She says your father tried to give some of the money back.”
Rachel closed her eyes.
“When?”
“After Harold filed suit.”
“And?”
“Mom wouldn’t take it.”
“That’s in the letter?”
“Yes.”
“How would Claire know?”
“She says she saw emails.”
“Between them?”
“Between your father and my mother.”
Rachel stood so quickly the chair scraped across the floor.
“Where are those emails?”
“I don’t know.”
“Could they be in storage?”
“Maybe.”
Rachel began pacing.
“If your mother has a key, she could already be there.”
“The facility logs gate access.”
“Do you have online access?”
“I’m checking.”
She waited while he moved around.
A drawer opened.
Keys jingled.
Then Daniel cursed quietly.
“What?”
“I found the account number.”
“And?”
“I can log in.”
Rachel stopped pacing.
“Do it.”
“I am.”
A few seconds passed.
Then Daniel said nothing.
Rachel’s grip tightened.
“What do you see?”
“Gate activity.”
“Today?”
“Yes.”
Her stomach dropped.
“What time?”
Daniel’s voice went flat.
“Five forty-one.”
“Whose code?”
He did not answer.
“Daniel.”
“My mother’s.”
Rachel stopped moving.
For several seconds she heard only Daniel breathing through the phone.
“What time did she leave the house?”
“A little after five.”
“So she went straight there.”
“It looks like it.”
Rachel turned toward the hallway.
Sophie was still asleep.
The sight of the closed bedroom door kept her voice low.
“Can you see when she left the facility?”
“I’m looking.”
Another pause.
“Six twelve.”
“Thirty-one minutes.”
“Yes.”
“Is that enough time to empty a unit?”
“No.”
“To remove specific boxes?”
Daniel said nothing.
Rachel sat down.
“That’s what she did.”
“We don’t know that.”
“Daniel.”
“I know.”
He sounded sick now.
Not defensive.
Not cautious.
Just sick.
Rachel pressed her fingers against her forehead.
“What exactly is in the unit?”
“Claire’s office boxes, some baby things, tax records, old photographs, furniture.”
“How many boxes from her office?”
“I don’t remember.”
“You moved them.”
“I hired movers.”
“Of course you did.”
“That’s not fair.”
“No.”
Rachel closed her eyes.
“It isn’t.”
The apology sat between them without repairing anything.
Daniel said, “I’m driving there.”
Rachel straightened.
“You said it’s closed.”
“The gate is automated.”
“You can still enter?”
“My code works until ten.”
“Do not go inside that unit alone.”
“Why?”
“Because your mother was just there.”
“She isn’t there now.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I can see the gate log.”
“She could still be inside.”
Daniel was silent.
May you like
Rachel heard herself and knew she sounded alarmist.
Then she thought of Margaret’s hand crossing Sophie’s face and the way Margaret had looked at the photograph afterward.
