Chương 6
Greed gave you clean lines.
This was worse.
This was entitlement mixed with resentment, convenience, family pressure, and years of small permissions that probably did not feel like theft until they had become something much larger.
“How much of my money went into this place?”
“I don’t know.”
“Find out.”
He stared at me.
“Why?”
“Because if I put another dollar into this business, I need to know what happened to the dollars already here.”
He folded his arms.
“And if I don’t?”
“Then I don’t invest.”
That landed.
His eyes shifted to the folder.
“You’re serious about the four hundred?”
“I’m serious about understanding what I’d be buying.”
He pulled out his chair and sat again.
“I can get statements.”
“Good.”
“It’ll take some time.”
“You had a proposal by ten in the morning.”
“That’s different.”
“Of course.”
He exhaled through his nose.
“You enjoy this?”
“No.”
“You look like you do.”
“I’m tired, Godfrey.”
“So am I.”
We sat in silence.
Below us, someone dropped a wrench and shouted something that made another mechanic laugh.
Godfrey picked at the label on his can.
“How bad is she?”
“Bad enough.”
His fingers stopped.
“Is she going to die?”
The bluntness made me look at him.
“I don’t know.”
He nodded once.
No joke.
No excuse.
For a few seconds, he looked younger.
Then he said, “She hates me.”
“Can you blame her?”
His mouth tightened.
“No.”
That answer surprised me more than anything else he had said.
“Did you know about the shed?”
“Yes.”
The room seemed to shrink.
“You knew she was sleeping there?”
“I knew.”
“And you let it happen.”
He looked down.
“Mom said it would be temporary.”
“You have an executive suite.”
He flinched.
I regretted the cheapness of the line almost as soon as I said it, but not enough to take it back.
“I wasn’t living at the house all the time.”
“You were there enough to drink scotch while she picked broken glass out of the dirt.”
He stood.
“There it is.”
“What?”
“The trial.”
“I’m asking you what happened.”
“No, you’ve already decided.”
“I watched it happen.”
“You watched five minutes.”
“I’ve read her letters.”
His face changed.
“What letters?”
That was the first real mistake he had made.
I kept my expression still.
“What letters do you think?”
He recovered badly.
“I don’t know.”
“You looked like you did.”
“Don’t start that detective crap.”
I stood and tucked the proposal under my arm.
“I’ll see you later.”
“Leave that.”
“The proposal?”
“Yes.”
“You made it for me.”
“It has internal numbers.”
I looked at him.
He realized how absurd that sounded.
I placed the folder back on the desk.
“Send me a copy after you decide which numbers you want me to see.”
“Damian.”
I walked toward the door.
“I said I’ll get the statements.”
“Good.”
He caught up with me at the stairs.
“Don’t tell Mom about this conversation.”
I turned.
“Why?”
“She’ll panic.”
“About what?”
He looked toward the shop floor.
“Everything.”
I left before he could narrow the word.
The hospital called while I was still in the parking lot.
Phedra’s imaging had been moved up because of a cancellation.
By the time I arrived, she had already been taken downstairs.
I found coffee from a machine near radiology and sat beside an elderly man reading a newspaper that looked as if he had folded it the same way every morning for forty years.
My coffee tasted like hot cardboard.
I drank it anyway.
When Phedra returned, she was exhausted and irritable.
The nurse tried to help adjust her pillow.
Phedra snapped, “I can do it.”
Then she apologized immediately.
The nurse shrugged.
“You’re allowed one.”
“One what?”
“Bad mood.”
Phedra gave her a weak smile.
“Only one?”
“Per shift.”
After the nurse left, I sat down.
Phedra looked at my face.
“You went to the shop.”
“Yes.”
“How did it go?”
“He wants four hundred thousand dollars.”
She blinked.
“You’ve been home less than two days.”
“I know.”
“That’s almost impressive.”
I laughed.
She shifted under the blanket.
Then the humor disappeared.
“What did he say about me?”
I hesitated.
“Not much.”
“That means something.”
“He admitted he knew about the shed.”
Her face became very still.
“I figured.”
“You figured?”
“He stopped looking surprised after the first week.”
I leaned forward.
“What letters does he know about?”
Phedra stared at me.
“I don’t know.”
“When I mentioned your letters, he reacted.”
“How?”
“Like he knew they existed.”
She looked toward the window.
“That doesn’t make sense.”
“Did you tell him you were writing them?”
“No.”
“Where did you keep them?”
“In the suitcase.”
“Always?”
She nodded, then stopped.
“Wait.”
“What?”
“One was missing.”
I felt the muscles in my shoulders tighten.
“When?”
“Months ago.”
“Which one?”
“I don’t remember exactly.”
“Try.”
She closed her eyes.
“I wrote after I called your old number.”
“My old number?”
“The prepaid one you used before your Canadian plan.”
“I canceled that years ago.”
“I know.”
“I left the phone here.”
“I know.”
That changed everything.
“Where?”
“In the dresser.”
Phedra opened her eyes.
“I found it when I was looking for cash.”
“You turned it on?”
“It still worked on Wi-Fi.”
I could already see where this was going.
“What did you find?”
“Your messages.”
My stomach dropped.
“What messages?”
“Not yours.”
She took a breath.
“Messages sent from your account.”
I stared at her.
“Phedra.”
“They looked like you.”
“What did they say?”
“Mostly normal things.”
Her voice became quieter.
“Work was busy, you were tired, you missed me.”
I stood without meaning to.
“That’s impossible.”
“I know.”
“Who had the phone?”
“I don’t know.”
“You said it was in the dresser.”
“It was when I found it.”
“Did you tell Selina?”
“No.”
“Godfrey?”
“No.”
“Anyone?”
“I wrote it in a letter.”
The missing letter.
I walked to the window.
May you like
Cars moved through the hospital entrance below.
A woman was arguing with someone beside a rideshare pickup.
