Chương 12
The pump screens flashed advertisements through the windshield.
Somebody at the next island was arguing with a credit-card reader.
I watched him slap the machine twice and felt strangely jealous of the simplicity of his problem.
Then I drove back to the hospital.
Phedra was asleep when I entered.
The room was dim except for the monitor and the strip of hallway light under the door.
I sat beside her bed and looked at her for a long time before deciding not to wake her.
That decision lasted four minutes.
“Phedra.”
Her eyes opened slowly.
“What happened?”
“Nothing immediate.”
She pushed herself higher.
“That means something happened.”
I pulled the chair closer.
“Lena found another account.”
“What account?”
“One in your name.”
Phedra frowned.
“I don’t have another account.”
“That’s what I thought.”
“How much?”
“More than thirty thousand went through it.”
She stared at me.
“No.”
“I know.”
“No, Damian.”
Her voice sharpened.
“I have one checking account and the little savings account we opened before you left.”
“This is different.”
“Which bank?”
I told her.
She shook her head before I finished.
“I’ve never had an account there.”
“Did you ever sign paperwork for Selina?”
“For what?”
“Anything.”
“Insurance forms, clinic forms, maybe the house once.”
“What house paperwork?”
She thought.
“Your mother said she needed proof I lived there.”
“When?”
“Maybe two years ago.”
“What did you sign?”
“I don’t remember.”
Her face tightened.
“I signed where she pointed.”
I looked down.
Phedra’s voice became defensive.
“I trusted her too.”
“I didn’t say anything.”
“You made a face.”
“I’m bad at my face.”
“That has always been true.”
The line came out dry enough that we both almost smiled.
Then she looked frightened again.
“Can someone open an account in my name?”
“Lena is checking.”
“Who withdrew the money?”
“We don’t know yet.”
Phedra rubbed both hands over her scalp.
The gesture stopped halfway when she seemed to remember there was no hair to push back.
I pretended not to notice.
“What if it looks like me?”
“What do you mean?”
“What if the paperwork has my signature?”
“We figure out how it got there.”
“You believe me?”
I looked at her.
“Yes.”
She held my gaze for a few seconds.
Then she nodded.
That small movement meant more to me than forgiveness would have.
The next morning, Lena arranged for Phedra to speak directly with the bank’s fraud department.
The process was slower than either of us wanted.
Identity questions.
Forms.
Requests for records.
Verification calls.
A signature comparison.
The representative would not tell us everything over the phone.
Phedra became irritated by the fourth transfer between departments.
“I’m the person whose name is on the account.”
“I understand, ma’am.”
“Then why are you asking me to prove I exist every seven minutes?”
The representative remained professionally calm.
“Because if the account was opened without your authorization, verification is exactly what protects you now.”
Phedra closed her eyes.
“That is annoyingly reasonable.”
The woman almost laughed.
By noon, we learned enough to make the room colder.
The account had been opened nineteen months earlier.
The mailing address was Selina’s house.
The phone number attached to it belonged to Godfrey.
The email address was one Phedra did not recognize.
Deposits came primarily from Selina’s secondary account.
Withdrawals and debit transactions clustered around Godfrey’s shop expenses, cash withdrawals, and several payments to Victor Hale.
Phedra listened without speaking.
When the call ended, she placed the phone on the tray table with extraordinary care.
“Why use my name?”
I had been asking myself the same thing.
“To hide where the money was going?”
“Why me?”
“I don’t know.”
She looked toward the window.
“Yes, you do.”
I did.
I just did not want to say it first.
“If someone noticed the account later, they could say you had the money.”
Phedra’s jaw tightened.
“They could say I stole it.”
“Maybe.”
“They already did.”
Godfrey’s voice returned to me from the backyard.
With everything you stole, you should be able to buy yourself a feast.
I stood.
Phedra looked at me.
“Where are you going?”
“To talk to Lena.”
“No.”
I stopped.
“You’re doing the precise thing.”
“What precise thing?”
“The thing where you decide what everyone else needs before they ask.”
I stared at her.
She pushed the blanket away from her knees.
“I want to talk to Lena.”
“You need rest.”
“I need a lawyer.”
“She’s my lawyer.”
“Exactly.”
The distinction embarrassed me.
“I’ll ask her for someone else.”
Phedra nodded.
“Thank you.”
Within two hours, Lena had referred Phedra to another attorney in the same building.
Her name was Miriam Shaw.
She specialized in financial exploitation and civil disputes.
Phedra met with her by video from the hospital.
I stayed for the first five minutes.
Then Miriam asked Phedra whether she wanted to speak privately.
Phedra said yes.
I left.
That hurt.
It also felt right.
I bought coffee downstairs and sat near the entrance where people kept walking past with flowers, backpacks, fast-food bags, and expressions that ranged from bored to shattered.
A boy around twelve was spinning slowly in a wheelchair while his mother told him to stop.
He did not.
She finally laughed.
I thought about calling Selina.
I did not.
Instead, I called Marcus.
“Any news on the settlement transfer?”
“It’s secured.”
“When?”
“Soon.”
“Can Godfrey interfere?”
“Not now.”
“Good.”
Marcus went quiet.
“You sound disappointed.”
“Why?”
“Because nothing exploded.”
I leaned back.
“I’m starting to understand that lawyers consider explosions paperwork.”
“That is remarkably accurate.”
He told me the final funds would go only to the newly secured account after one last identity verification.
Then he asked whether I still intended to use the settlement as bait.
“I don’t know.”
“That sounds healthier than yes.”
“I’m not sure that’s why.”
After Phedra finished with Miriam, she was exhausted but steadier.
“What did she say?”
“That I should not tell you everything.”
I blinked.
May you like
Phedra almost smiled.
“That was worth the consultation by itself.”
