Chương 11
“Not yet.”
We ended the call.
Gwen’s face had gone gray.
“What did he say?”
I sat beside her.
“Somebody changed an allotment under my name.”
“To where?”
“An account coded for spouse support.”
Her brow furrowed.
“I never got that.”
“I believe you.”
That came out faster this time.
She looked at me sharply.
I continued.
“Seventeen thousand six hundred over eight months.”
“Daniel.”
“There’s more.”
Her hands tightened around the old phone.
“Someone tried to change my life-insurance beneficiary.”
“To who?”
“My mother.”
Gwen stared at me.
Then she started laughing.
Not because anything was funny.
It came out brittle and frightened.
“She told me I was trying to kill you for money.”
I looked at her.
“What?”
Gwen stopped laughing.
“She said that after she found out about the cancer.”
“Explain.”
“She said if you came home because I was sick and something happened to you while traveling, people would blame me.”
“That makes no sense.”
“I know.”
“She said you were worth more dead than alive?”
Gwen looked ashamed.
“Yes.”
“When?”
“February.”
“Why didn’t you tell me this last night?”
“Because there were too many things.”
“That is not a reason.”
“It is when you’ve spent months trying not to think about them.”
I got up.
This time she did not stop me.
“Where are you going?”
“Outside.”
“Why?”
“The grill.”
Her eyes widened.
“Daniel.”
“I’m not confronting anybody.”
“You promised.”
“And I’m keeping it.”
I went through the back door.
The old grill sat beside the shed exactly where I remembered.
Its lid was streaked orange with rust.
The ash pan underneath had not been emptied.
I crouched and opened it.
Mostly gray ash.
Charred paper fragments.
Months old.
Rain and humidity had ruined almost everything.
Almost.
I used a gardening glove from the shed and sifted carefully.
A blackened corner of heavy paper came free.
Printed numbers.
Part of a routing line.
Another fragment.
Three letters.
H-A-R.
I stared at them.
Harrison.
Maybe.
Maybe not.
I kept searching.
Footsteps sounded behind me.
I turned.
Paige stood barefoot in the grass wearing sunglasses and holding a mug.
“What are you doing?”
“Cleaning.”
“At seven thirty in the morning?”
“I’ve changed.”
She looked at the ash.
Then at me.
Her face lost color.
“What did you find?”
Interesting question.
Not what are you looking for.
What did you find.
I stood slowly.
“You tell me.”
Paige set the mug on the fence.
“I don’t know.”
“You asked what I found.”
“Because you’re digging through burned trash like a lunatic.”
“Why did Mom burn documents here?”
Paige went still.
“She didn’t.”
“Gwen saw her.”
“Gwen sees things.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means she was taking medication.”
“What medication?”
“I don’t know.”
“You keep saying that.”
“Because I’m not her nurse.”
I held up the charred fragment.
“Does Harrison Home Solutions mean anything to you?”
Her eyes flicked to it.
Too fast.
“Contractor.”
“Who owns it?”
“Some guy.”
“Name?”
“Harrison.”
“You and Mom use the same joke.”
“I’m not joking.”
“Have you met him?”
Paige picked up her mug.
“Maybe.”
“Where?”
“I don’t remember.”
I stepped closer.
She backed away.
Not much.
Enough.
“Paige.”
“What?”
“Who owns Harrison Home Solutions?”
She looked toward the house.
I followed her eyes.
Margaret stood behind the kitchen window.
Watching us.
Paige swallowed.
“Ask Mom.”
“I’m asking you.”
She took off her sunglasses.
Her eyes were red.
Whether from sleep or crying, I could not tell.
“Daniel, you need to stop.”
“Stop what?”
“Digging.”
“Why?”
“Because you think there’s one bad thing here.”
“What does that mean?”
She shook her head.
“I shouldn’t have come outside.”
She turned.
I caught her wrist.
Not hard.
She looked down at my hand.
I released her immediately.
“Sorry.”
She rubbed the spot anyway.
“What are you afraid I’ll find?”
Paige looked at me for several seconds.
Then she said something I did not expect.
“Not what you’ll find.”
“What then?”
“What Mom will do when she realizes you found it.”
The back door opened.
Margaret called, “Paige.”
My sister flinched.
That answered another question.
Not all of it.
Enough.
Paige put her sunglasses back on.
“She wants you inside.”
“I’m sure she does.”
Paige lowered her voice.
“Don’t let her know you called the Army.”
I stared at her.
“How do you know I called anyone?”
“I heard you downstairs.”
“You were listening again?”
“Our house has thin walls.”
“You said the kitchen wasn’t a secure facility.”
“This whole place isn’t.”
She moved past me.
I caught one last thing before she reached the porch.
“Paige.”
She stopped without turning.
“Is Harrison yours?”
Her shoulders dropped.
“No.”
“Mom’s?”
“No.”
“Whose?”
She looked back at me.
“Dad’s.”
For a second I thought I had misheard.
“Our father is dead.”
“I know.”
“Then what are you saying?”
Paige’s mouth tightened.
“I’m saying Harrison Home Solutions was created using his Social Security number two years after we buried him.”
I stared at Paige until the words stopped sounding like words.
“Say that again.”
She looked toward the kitchen window.
Margaret was still there.
Watching.
Paige lowered her voice.
“Not here.”
“You just told me Dad owns a company from the grave.”
“I said his information was used.”
“By who?”
“Daniel.”
“By who?”
She glanced at the house again.
“That’s exactly why I said not here.”
I stepped around the grill and moved toward the shed.
Paige followed reluctantly.
The shed smelled like cut grass, old gasoline, and mouse droppings.
I shut the door most of the way, leaving an inch of light.
Paige stayed near it.
“You have two minutes,” she said.
“That’s generous.”
“I’m serious.”
“So am I.”
She folded her arms.
I could see her trying to decide which version of herself to use with me.
The sarcastic little sister.
The defensive adult.
The frightened accomplice.
None of them quite fit.
“How do you know about Dad’s Social Security number?”
“Because I saw the paperwork.”
“When?”
“Last year.”
“Where?”
“Mom’s room.”
May you like
“What paperwork?”
“An EIN letter.”
