Chương 6
He had left voicemail messages unanswered.
He had shouted at a florist because they sent lilies.
He had spent one entire afternoon sitting in Caroline’s closet with the lights off.
People had made decisions around him because he had made himself unavailable to make them.
Lucinda had filled the vacuum.
He looked down at the laptop.
“Did you open it?”
“No.”
“Did anyone?”
“I don’t know.”
Lucinda gave an impatient sigh.
“This is absurd.”
Andrew carried the laptop to the dining table near the windows.
Alex followed three steps behind him.
Elizabeth followed Alex.
Lucinda remained where she was for a moment before walking after them.
Andrew plugged in the charger.
The screen illuminated.
A password field appeared.
He stared at it.
“What was her password?”
Lucinda said immediately, “Don’t.”
Andrew glanced up.
“Why?”
“Because people are entitled to privacy even after death.”
Elizabeth looked at her.
Lucinda noticed.
“Yes, even Caroline.”
Andrew’s fingers rested on the keyboard.
“She is not here to object.”
“That does not give you permission.”
“It gives me responsibility.”
“You always confuse those two.”
Andrew looked back at the screen.
He tried the password Caroline had used for their shared home accounts.
Rejected.
He tried an old combination involving Alex’s birthday.
Rejected.
He stopped.
Alex stood beside his chair.
His eyes were fixed on the keyboard.
Andrew noticed.
“What?”
Alex reached forward slowly.
He touched the letter C.
Then A.
Then R.
Lucinda moved.
It was only one step.
Andrew saw it.
He looked from her to Alex.
The boy continued.
O.
L.
I.
N.
E.
Andrew stared at the letters concealed as dots.
“That’s Mommy’s name.”
Alex shook his head.
Then he added four numbers.
The laptop unlocked.
The desktop appeared.
Elizabeth inhaled.
Andrew looked at his son.
“How did you know that?”
Alex’s eyes filled again.
“Mommy showed me.”
“When?”
No answer.
Andrew stopped himself before asking again.
A folder sat in the center of the desktop.
It was labeled HOUSE.
Lucinda turned away.
Andrew clicked it.
Inside were household receipts, scanned contracts, photographs of furniture deliveries, insurance documents, and dozens of files with names too ordinary to mean anything.
He scrolled.
Nothing.
He opened a folder called TAX.
Statements.
Invoices.
A property assessment.
He opened another labeled ALEX SCHOOL.
Forms.
Medical permissions.
A preschool calendar.
Lucinda exhaled.
“You see?”
Andrew ignored her.
He inserted the memory card into the laptop’s side slot.
Nothing happened.
He waited.
A small icon appeared.
The card mounted as an external drive.
There were seven files.
Six photographs.
One audio recording.
Andrew did not click anything.
His hand had gone still.
Elizabeth leaned closer without meaning to.
The photographs were named by date.
The last one was taken three days before Caroline died.
Lucinda looked toward the front doors.
Andrew saw it in the reflection of the dark laptop screen.
“Sit down.”
She turned.
“I beg your pardon?”
“Sit.”
“Then leave.”
Her eyes widened.
Andrew added, “And I call the police before you reach the driveway.”
Lucinda stared at him.
“You wouldn’t.”
Andrew picked up his phone.
She sat.
The chair scraped loudly across the marble.
Alex jumped.
Lucinda closed her eyes briefly.
“I’m sorry.”
Everyone looked at her.
The apology seemed to surprise even her.
Alex did not respond.
Andrew opened the first photograph.
It showed a stack of printed bank statements on Caroline’s desk.
Several transactions were circled in red.
The account belonged to a family trust Andrew recognized.
He leaned closer.
The withdrawals were substantial.
Twenty thousand.
Fifteen.
Thirty-five.
Made over seven months.
Each transfer went to the same consulting company.
Andrew frowned.
“I don’t know this firm.”
Lucinda’s face had gone very still.
Elizabeth looked from the screen to her.
Andrew opened the second photograph.
It showed incorporation records.
The consulting company’s registered mailing address was a mailbox in another county.
The third showed an email printed on paper.
Andrew read the first lines silently.
Then again.
Lucinda stood.
Andrew’s chair moved backward as he rose with her.
“Sit down.”
She did not.
“That money was mine.”
Andrew stared.
Lucinda’s lips pressed together.
“It came from my portion of the trust.”
“The trust requires two signatures for withdrawals over ten thousand.”
“You were unavailable.”
“That isn’t an answer.”
Lucinda looked toward Alex.
“Not in front of him.”
Andrew almost shouted.
Instead, he lowered his voice.
“You’ve been happy to say everything else in front of him.”
Lucinda’s eyes glistened.
She blinked once.
“My brother was in debt.”
Andrew stared at her.
“Uncle Peter?”
She nodded.
“He had borrowed against everything.”
“He died six years ago.”
“The debt didn’t.”
Andrew looked at the transactions.
“So you created a company.”
“I did not create it.”
“Whose company is it?”
Lucinda did not answer.
Andrew opened the fourth image.
A driver’s license filled the screen.
The name belonged to a man Andrew had never heard of.
The face was familiar.
He could not place it.
Elizabeth could.
She whispered, “That’s the man from the funeral.”
Andrew looked at her.
“What man?”
“He stood near the back.”
Lucinda gripped the edge of the chair.
“He came to the house before Mrs. Whitmore died.”
Andrew’s attention snapped to Elizabeth.
“When?”
“Twice.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I thought he was a contractor.”
Lucinda said, “He was.”
Elizabeth shook her head.
“No.”
Lucinda stared at her.
Elizabeth’s voice became quieter.
“He asked me whether Mrs. Whitmore was home before he knocked.”
Andrew looked back at the photograph.
The man’s name was Victor Hale.
Something in Andrew’s memory shifted.
A face reflected in rain-dark glass outside the church.
A stranger avoiding eye contact when Andrew walked past.
He had forgotten him before reaching Caroline’s grave.
Andrew opened the final photograph.
Nobody spoke.
It showed the west staircase.
Caroline was visible near the top.
Lucinda stood several steps below her.
The image had been taken from behind the half-open nursery door.
Lucinda’s face was turned upward.
Caroline’s arm was extended.
May you like
In her hand was a small black memory card case.
The same kind Andrew had just taken from the rabbit.
