Chương 13
“Why are you telling me now?”
She breathed out slowly.
“Because Walter sent someone to watch your apartment.”
“That is what crossed the line?”
“No.”
“Then what?”
“June.”
I waited.
“He called her ungrateful this morning.”
My jaw tightened.
“For what?”
“For leaving with you.”
“She is ten.”
“I know.”
“What exactly did he say?”
“He said she has been raised to think the world revolves around her feelings.”
I shut the truck door harder than necessary.
“And you let him say that?”
“No.”
“What did you do?”
“I told him to stop.”
“And?”
“He told me I was the reason you became weak.”
I almost laughed again.
My father could apparently turn any event into evidence of somebody else’s failure.
“What happened next?”
“I packed a bag.”
I stopped.
“You left?”
“I am at Carol’s.”
That surprised me more than the fraud.
“You left Dad.”
“For now.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means I am sitting in your aunt’s guest room with three blouses, two pairs of shoes, and no idea whether I remembered my blood pressure medication.”
Despite myself, I said, “Check the side pocket of your purse.”
She was quiet.
Then I heard fabric moving.
A zipper.
“Oh.”
“You found it.”
“Yes.”
Rebecca used to joke that my mother’s purse contained every object except the one she was looking for.
For a few seconds, neither of us spoke.
Then my mother said, “You sound like her sometimes.”
I looked through the windshield.
“Don’t.”
“I’m sorry.”
“No.”
My voice softened.
“Just not now.”
“All right.”
I rubbed my hand across my face.
“Does Dad know you left?”
“Yes.”
“What did he do?”
“Called eight times.”
“Did you answer?”
“No.”
That was so unlike her that I almost asked whether she was okay.
Instead I said, “Good.”
“Your aunt says I should change my passwords.”
“Your aunt is right.”
“I hate when Carol is right.”
“Everybody does.”
My mother laughed once.
It sounded rusty.
Then her voice grew serious.
“Ethan, there is one more thing.”
Of course there was.
“What?”
“Rebecca left something with me.”
I did not answer.
“I was supposed to give it to you if Walter ever tried to force you back into the company.”
My heart began beating harder.
“What is it?”
“I don’t know.”
“You’ve had it for years and never opened it?”
“She sealed it.”
“That has never stopped anyone in this family before.”
“I deserved that.”
“What is it?”
“A yellow folder.”
I went completely still.
“Where is it?”
“With me.”
“At Carol’s?”
“Yes.”
“What’s inside?”
“I told you, I don’t know.”
“Why didn’t you give it to me after Rebecca died?”
“Because she gave me instructions.”
“What instructions?”
“Only if Walter tries to use Mercer Mechanical to control Ethan.”
I closed my eyes.
The exactness of it hurt.
“She knew.”
“Yes.”
“She knew he would.”
“I think she feared he might.”
I opened my eyes.
“Do not bring it to my apartment.”
“I wasn’t going to.”
“Do not call Dad.”
“I won’t.”
“Do not tell Blake.”
“I won’t.”
“Do not tell Garrett.”
“I won’t.”
“Mom.”
“Yes?”
“Does anyone else know you have it?”
She hesitated.
That was enough.
“Who?”
“Walter knew Rebecca gave me something.”
My stomach dropped.
“Does he know it was a folder?”
“I don’t think so.”
“Does he know you still have it?”
“I don’t know.”
I gripped the steering wheel.
“Then get out of Carol’s house.”
“What?”
“Take the folder and leave.”
“Where?”
“Anywhere public.”
“Ethan, I am not being followed.”
“You told me Dad hired someone to watch my building.”
“That was different.”
“No, it wasn’t.”
I started the engine.
“Go to the café across from the county courthouse.”
“Why there?”
“Cameras, people, police nearby.”
“Ethan.”
“Please.”
That word did what anger had not.
She went quiet.
Then she said, “All right.”
“I’ll meet you there.”
“What about June?”
“I’ll pick her up from school first.”
“Are you sure?”
“No.”
For once, the answer felt appropriate.
My mother exhaled.
“I’ll bring the folder.”
We hung up.
I sat behind the wheel for three seconds.
Then my phone buzzed.
A text from an unknown number appeared on the screen.
You should have listened to Garrett.
A second message followed before I could move.
The old papers belong to Mercer.
The third arrived ten seconds later.
The yellow folder does not belong to you.
I read the three messages twice, then took screenshots before the number could disappear.
My hands were steady now.
That frightened me more than shaking would have.
I forwarded the screenshots to Rachel Kim with one sentence.
Someone knows about the folder.
Her reply came less than a minute later.
Call me now.
I did.
She listened without interrupting.
When I finished, she said, “Do not go to the café.”
“My mother is already heading there.”
“Change the location.”
“Why?”
“Because whoever sent that text knows enough to know the folder exists.”
“You think they know where she is?”
“I think assuming they do is cheaper than being wrong.”
I called my mother on the other line.
“Don’t go to the café.”
“I’m already in the car.”
“Go to the police substation on Grant.”
Silence.
“Ethan.”
“Please.”
“What happened?”
“Someone texted me about the folder.”
She stopped breathing for a second.
Then she said, “All right.”
Rachel stayed on the call while I drove.
“Are you bringing your documents?”
“No.”
“Good.”
“The folder may be evidence.”
“Maybe.”
“There’s that word again.”
“It’s still the correct one.”
I picked June up early from school.
She climbed into the truck carrying her backpack and a half-finished poster about ecosystems.
“Why am I leaving?”
“Family problem.”
“Grandpa?”
“Yes.”
She looked at my face.
“Bad?”
“I’m handling it.”
“That means bad.”
I hated that she already knew my language that well.
At the Grant Street substation, my mother was waiting in the lobby with Aunt Carol and a yellow folder pressed against her chest.
May you like
Carol looked furious in a practical way.
She had apparently decided fear was inefficient.
