Chương 10
I stared at my son.
He spoke faster.
“I told her no.”
“But.”
“I told her no three times.”
“But.”
“She was crying.”
I almost laughed again.
Instead, I said, “So you helped steal my house because your wife cried.”
“No.”
“What would you call it?”
“I thought you had agreed.”
That struck me silent.
Marcus swallowed.
“She showed me the page with your signature.”
“The page I signed in my kitchen.”
“Yes.”
“She told me you knew?”
“Yes.”
“And you believed her.”
His eyes filled.
“I wanted to.”
There it was.
Not innocence.
Not exactly.
Something weaker and worse.
A willingness to believe the lie that required the least courage.
“Why didn't you call me?”
He looked at the sand by his feet.
“Because if you said no, then I couldn't pretend.”
I turned away.
Across the street, a little girl in pink goggles dragged a yellow bodyboard through the sand.
Her father carried everything else.
Normal life again.
Always arriving at the rudest moments.
“Mom.”
“Don't.”
“I am sorry.”
“Not yet.”
He went quiet.
I took a breath.
“Did you sign as a witness?”
“No.”
“What did you sign?”
“A borrower disclosure.”
“For the loan?”
“Yes.”
“You applied too?”
“My name was included.”
“How much debt do you have?”
He looked at me.
“Mine?”
“Yes.”
“About thirty thousand.”
“For what?”
“Credit cards.”
I laughed once, without humor.
“So the two of you needed my house to clean up more than a hundred thousand dollars of debt.”
“It wasn't supposed to touch you.”
“Listen to yourself.”
“I know.”
“No, I don't think you do.”
Deputy Reed stepped out of the house.
He did not interrupt immediately.
That restraint probably saved Marcus from hearing several things I would have regretted.
“Mrs. Wells,” he said.
I turned.
“We found a folder in the desk.”
“My passport?”
“No passport.”
“What folder?”
He held it in a clear evidence bag.
Even from several feet away, I recognized Lauren's handwriting on the tab.
BEACH HOUSE.
Reed said, “There are photocopies of your driver's license, several signature samples, and what appears to be a draft quitclaim deed.”
Marcus made a sound behind me.
I turned.
He looked genuinely shocked.
“You didn't know that was there?”
“No.”
Deputy Reed watched him.
“You'll have an opportunity to explain what you know.”
Marcus stared at the bag.
Then at me.
“Mom, I swear.”
I held up one hand.
“I cannot tell today which parts of you I still believe.”
His mouth closed.
Reed continued.
“There is also a printout of an email exchange with Coastal Closing Support.”
“From Lauren?”
“It appears so.”
“And me?”
“From the account using your name.”
My skin prickled.
“Can you tell if she controlled it?”
“Not from a printout.”
“What else?”
He looked at Marcus before answering.
“A lender checklist.”
My son sank down onto the porch step.
Reed said, “One item is handwritten.”
“What does it say?”
He opened his notebook.
“Need owner out until funding.”
For several seconds, I could hear nothing except the ocean.
Then the changed alarm code finally made sense.
It had never been about boundaries.
It had been about keeping me away long enough for the house to become collateral before I discovered what they had done.
I looked at Lauren's handwriting through the clear plastic and felt something colder than anger settle into me.
She had not merely wanted privacy.
She had needed distance.
Distance from the woman whose signature she had used.
Distance from the locked desk.
Distance from the mail.
Distance from the possibility that I might walk through my own front door and ask the wrong question before the right money changed hands.
Marcus remained on the porch step with his elbows on his knees.
He looked sick.
Deputy Reed shifted the evidence bag under his arm.
“Mrs. Wells, I need you not to touch anything inside until we're finished documenting.”
“Fine.”
“And I need you not to confront Mrs. Wells if she returns.”
I looked at him.
He corrected himself.
“Lauren.”
That almost made me smile.
“She is Mrs. Wells too.”
“Right.”
“Just not the one on the tax bill.”
Reed gave me a look that said he understood exactly what I was doing and would allow one inch of it.
Then he turned toward Marcus.
“Mr. Wells, I need you to stay available.”
Marcus nodded.
His shoulders were rounded.
He had always hated authority when he was guilty.
As a boy, he once confessed to breaking a neighbor's window before the neighbor even knew it was broken because a patrol car happened to drive down our street.
I had laughed then.
I did not laugh now.
“Did you know about that note?” I asked him.
“No.”
“Need owner out until funding.”
“I can read.”
“Did you know she wanted me kept away?”
“No.”
“You changed the code with her.”
“I didn't change it.”
“You allowed it.”
His jaw tightened.
“I told you what happened.”
“No, you gave me pieces after the police arrived.”
His eyes came up.
“I am trying.”
“You started trying after there were uniforms in the driveway.”
“Mom.”
Deputy Reed stepped between the words before they became something worse.
“This conversation isn't helping either of you right now.”
I wanted to tell him family conversations were rarely designed for efficiency.
Instead, I looked toward the house.
“Can I go inside?”
“In a few minutes.”
“Why not now?”
“We're photographing the desk area.”
“It's my desk.”
“I understand.”
I almost said apparently everyone understands except the people who were living here.
I kept that one.
The front screen door opened and another deputy came out carrying a cardboard banker box.
She was younger than Reed, with dark hair pulled into a knot and sunglasses resting on top of her head.
“Calvin.”
He walked toward her.
They spoke quietly.
I caught only two words.
More copies.
Marcus heard them too.
His face changed.
“What else did she do?”
I looked at him.
“You're asking me?”
May you like
He stood abruptly.
“I didn't know about any folder.”
