Chương 7
I rubbed the back of my neck.
“Someone anonymous just warned me not to go alone.”
“Excellent reason not to go.”
“I’m calling Alvarez.”
“Better.”
Officer Alvarez answered through dispatch after several minutes.
I explained the photograph and forwarded it to the number he gave me.
He asked whether I had any reason to believe Julian was armed.
“No.”
“Has he threatened you?”
“Not directly.”
“Has the caller?”
“No.”
“Do you know when the photo was taken?”
“No.”
There was a short pause.
“We’ll send a unit to check the address.”
“I can meet them there.”
“I’d rather you didn’t.”
That sentence irritated me enough that I nearly argued.
Then I remembered his expression when he told me this was not television.
“Fine.”
“Stay at the hospital.”
“I’m standing outside.”
“Close enough.”
I went back inside.
Mom was still asleep.
The hallway lights had been dimmed.
A nurse was filling paper cups at the water dispenser and humming under her breath.
I sat in the visitor chair and watched my phone.
Nothing happened for eleven minutes.
Then twenty.
Then thirty-four.
At forty-three minutes, Alvarez called.
“The property is empty.”
“Julian?”
“Gone.”
“Was the door open?”
“No.”
I stood.
“Then the picture was earlier.”
“Probably.”
“Did you go inside?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because we don’t currently have a lawful basis to enter.”
“My mother owns that house.”
“The public record you showed me says otherwise.”
“She may have been defrauded.”
“That may become very important.”
His voice remained irritatingly steady.
“But probable fraud does not give me automatic authority to enter somebody else’s property tonight.”
“What about Julian?”
“No sign of him.”
I stared through the narrow window in Mom’s door.
“What do I do with that?”
“Save it.”
“The photo?”
“The message, the number, your call log, all of it.”
“Can you trace the number?”
“Maybe later.”
Later again.
Every important answer had migrated into that word.
I sat down.
Around one in the morning, Mom woke and asked for water.
I held the cup while she drank through a straw.
“You look terrible,” she said.
“Thank you.”
“You always get gray when you’re tired.”
“I thought people went pale.”
“You go gray.”
She settled back against the pillow.
“Your father did too.”
I put the cup down.
For a moment, neither of us spoke.
Then she said, “Did Chloe leave?”
“Yes.”
“Good.”
The word came too quickly.
I looked at her.
Mom turned her face toward the dark television screen.
“Were you afraid of her?”
She did not answer.
I waited.
Finally she said, “Sometimes.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I did.”
The words were quiet.
They hurt more than if she had shouted.
I looked at my hands.
She went on before I could defend myself.
“You were busy.”
“That’s not an excuse.”
“No.”
“I thought you meant arguments.”
“I know.”
“I should have listened.”
“Yes.”
There was no mercy in her agreement.
I deserved that too.
After a while she added, “I also lied to you.”
I looked up.
“About what?”
“When you asked if I was all right.”
Her eyes filled, but she blinked until the moisture disappeared.
“I kept saying yes.”
“Why?”
“Because you sounded tired.”
I almost laughed from the absurdity of it.
“You were protecting me?”
“Don’t make it noble.”
She shifted and winced as her wrist moved.
“I was embarrassed.”
“About Chloe?”
“About needing help.”
She looked down.
“About getting old in somebody else’s house.”
“It was your house too.”
“No.”
Her mouth tightened.
“It was yours and Chloe’s.”
I wanted to correct her.
Instead I remembered the bolt on the outside of her bedroom door.
She continued.
“I told myself I could handle her.”
“You shouldn’t have had to.”
“That is the kind of thing people say afterward.”
I leaned back in the chair.
“What happened with Julian before your stroke?”
Mom stared at me.
“You don’t stop.”
“No.”
“That is one of your least attractive qualities.”
“I know.”
“You don’t know.”
Despite everything, I smiled.
Then she sighed.
“I signed papers for him because I thought he was helping with the rental house.”
“Did he change anything after you signed?”
“I don’t know.”
“What did you mean yesterday when you said you wouldn’t sign another one?”
Her eyes moved toward me sharply.
“Maya told you.”
“Yes.”
Mom adjusted the blanket with her good hand.
“Julian brought a deed.”
“When?”
“Yesterday.”
“To transfer what?”
“My house.”
“The rental?”
She nodded.
“To whom?”
“He said a company.”
“Sable Ridge?”
Her face changed.
“You know that name.”
“It’s listed as the current owner.”
Mom went very still.
“That’s impossible.”
“Apparently not.”
“I never signed it.”
“Did Julian ask you to?”
“Yes.”
“Yesterday?”
“Yes.”
“What happened?”
“I threw the papers at him.”
A small pulse of satisfaction passed through me.
It lasted less than a second.
“If you didn’t sign yesterday, then whatever transferred in May was different paperwork.”
“I didn’t sign a deed in May either.”
“Are you sure?”
She looked offended.
“Yes.”
I stopped myself from pushing.
“What did Julian say when you refused yesterday?”
Mom stared toward the door.
“He said it was already done.”
A chill moved across my shoulders.
“What did that mean?”
“I asked him.”
“And?”
“He told me I had made enough trouble.”
“Did Chloe hear this?”
“She was standing right there.”
“What did she say?”
Mom’s mouth twisted.
“She told him to stop frightening me.”
That did not sound like the Chloe I had watched on the recordings.
“Was she defending you?”
Mom hesitated.
“I don’t know.”
The answer interested me more than a simple no.
“What happened next?”
“Julian left.”
“With the papers?”
“Yes.”
“And Chloe?”
“She stayed.”
Mom’s fingers curled into the blanket.
“She was angry.”
“At you?”
“At him.”
That stopped me.
“Why?”
“I couldn’t hear everything.”
“But they argued.”
“Yes.”
“About what?”
“Money.”
I leaned forward.
“What money?”
Mom closed her eyes.
“I don’t know.”
I watched her breathing for a while.
Her face had tightened with fatigue.
May you like
I stood.
“We can do this tomorrow.”
