Chương 8
I read paragraph seven.
Then I read it again.
The confidentiality clause excluded information relating to unlawful conduct, regulatory violations, insurance fraud, or criminal activity.
My first thought was that Rebecca had been preparing for a fight I did not remember having.
My second was worse.
She had been protecting me from one she thought might come later.
I called Mara.
She answered with chewing noises.
“If this is another legal emergency, I am eating chips.”
“Did Rebecca ever talk to you about Mercer?”
The chewing stopped.
“Not really.”
“Think.”
“I am thinking.”
“Before she got sick.”
“That’s a big range.”
“About my dad.”
Mara was quiet.
Then she said, “Once.”
I stood straighter.
“When?”
“Years ago.”
“What did she say?”
“She asked whether Walter had ever been investigated.”
“By who?”
“She didn’t say.”
“And you didn’t ask?”
“I did.”
“What did she tell you?”
“That she was probably being paranoid.”
“Rebecca was not paranoid.”
“I know.”
The answer came softly.
“What else?”
“She asked if Mercer ever did government work.”
“It did.”
“Then she changed the subject.”
I looked at the purchase order.
“Mara, why didn’t you tell me this?”
“Because it was one conversation eight or nine years ago.”
“Did she show you anything?”
“No.”
“Mention St. Vincent?”
“No.”
“Insurance?”
“No.”
“Serial numbers?”
“No.”
“Stop.”
I realized I was interrogating her.
“Sorry.”
“Accepted.”
I sat at the kitchen table.
June glanced over the top of her tablet.
I lowered my voice.
“I found paperwork.”
“What kind?”
“Old invoices.”
“Bad?”
“Maybe.”
“Maybe is becoming your favorite word.”
“I’m trying not to invent a crime because numbers look strange.”
“Good policy.”
“There’s also a note from Rebecca.”
Mara did not answer immediately.
“What does it say?”
I read it to her.
This time the silence felt different.
“Ethan.”
“Yeah.”
“You need a lawyer.”
“I don’t have lawyer money.”
“You have consultation money.”
“You don’t know how much money I have.”
“I know you sold Rebecca’s watch to make a birthday cake.”
My entire body went still.
“How do you know that?”
Another silence.
Then Mara swore.
“Who told you?”
“Your mother.”
I pushed back from the table.
“When?”
“This morning.”
“Why does she know?”
“I don’t know.”
“Nobody knew.”
“She knew.”
I thought about my mother’s cash in June’s overnight bag.
About her calling me proud when I refused it.
“Did she say how?”
“No.”
“What exactly did she say?”
“She said you’d sold Rebecca’s watch and that you were too stubborn to admit you were struggling.”
“Anything else?”
“She was crying.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“She said Walter was right that you couldn’t manage without family.”
I closed my eyes.
There it was.
The old equation.
Need equaled obedience.
Money equaled permission.
And somehow even my private sacrifices had become evidence against me.
“I’m fine.”
“I didn’t say you weren’t.”
“I’m going to work tomorrow.”
“Okay.”
“I have health insurance.”
“Good.”
“I pay my rent.”
“Ethan.”
“What?”
“You’re defending yourself to me.”
I looked at June.
She had taken out the earbud and was pretending not to listen.
“I need to go.”
“Call a lawyer first.”
“I’ll think about it.”
“That means no.”
“It means I’ll think about it.”
“Fine.”
Before hanging up, Mara said, “And don’t contact Mercer.”
“I already replied to payroll.”
“Not again.”
“Why?”
“Because if they’re fishing, stop putting worms on the hook.”
“That metaphor was terrible.”
“I told you I’m eating chips.”
After the call, June said, “Are we struggling?”
I put the phone down.
“No.”
“You sounded like we are.”
“We’ve had hard months.”
“Because Mom got sick?”
“Partly.”
“And because she died?”
The question was blunt in the way only children could manage.
“Yeah.”
“Did Grandpa help?”
“Sometimes.”
“Did he make you feel bad about it?”
I considered giving her a softer answer.
Then I remembered her face at the birthday table.
“Yes.”
She nodded.
“That’s dumb.”
“It’s complicated.”
“Why?”
“Because sometimes people give you something because they love you, and sometimes they give you something because they like knowing you needed them.”
June frowned.
“That’s still dumb.”
I almost laughed.
“Yeah.”
She put her earbud back in.
I spent the rest of Sunday scanning every document in the box.
I uploaded copies to a new encrypted cloud folder, then saved another set to a flash drive I kept with my trade certifications.
I took photographs of the torn notebook pages and the purchase order.
I did not contact my father.
He did not contact me.
That worried me more than the calls had.
Monday morning began at six ten with a service dispatch to a grocery store thirty miles north.
Their freezer alarm had gone off overnight, and by the time I arrived the manager was pacing beside the compressor rack with the expression of a man personally betrayed by refrigeration.
For three hours, my life became beautifully simple.
A valve was either open or closed.
Pressure was either within range or it was not.
A failed relay did not care who my father loved more.
I replaced a contactor, documented the readings, drank bad coffee from a paper cup, and tried not to look at my phone.
At ten thirty-seven, I failed.
There were two missed calls from Charles Garrett.
One voicemail.
I stepped outside behind the loading dock where delivery trucks idled beside stacks of blue pallets.
Garrett’s voice was smooth and formal.
“Ethan, I believe it would be in everyone’s interest to discuss the recent estate changes and certain matters involving Mercer Mechanical.”
He paused.
“I would strongly advise that you not distribute or disclose any company-related materials that may be in your possession until we have spoken.”
My hand tightened around the phone.
He did not say if.
He said that may be in your possession.
I called him back.
His assistant transferred me immediately.
“Ethan.”
“Charles.”
“I appreciate the call.”
“How do you know I have company materials?”
A pause.
“I didn’t say that you do.”
May you like
“You told me not to disclose them.”
“As a precaution.”
