Chương 7
“Coffee's terrible,” she said.
“I put two creamers in it.”
Then she walked away.
Deputy Reed closed the door.
For some reason, I almost cried again.
Instead, I unwrapped the Danish.
It was stale.
I ate half of it anyway.
Elaine said she was going to contact the document service and call me back.
Reed told me he needed to make a few calls of his own.
Before he left, he said, “Lock the door.”
“I've survived sixty-nine years without a deputy telling me that.”
“Humor me.”
“I don't like being told what to do.”
“I've noticed.”
The corner of his mouth moved.
Then he was gone.
I sat alone with the terrible coffee.
Ten minutes later, Marcus called again.
I let it ring twice before answering.
“Where's Lauren?”
“I don't know.”
His voice was strained.
“You said that before.”
“She left.”
“When?”
“About an hour ago.”
“Before or after you told her about the police?”
“Mom, stop.”
“No.”
He made a sound like he had hit something with his palm.
Not hard.
A counter, perhaps.
“You don't understand what you're doing.”
“Then explain it.”
“I can't.”
“Can't or won't?”
“Both.”
I set the coffee down.
“Marcus, did you know about the deed?”
He began breathing through his nose.
“Marcus.”
“I knew there were papers.”
“What papers?”
“She said it was temporary.”
The room went still.
“What was temporary?”
“I don't know.”
“You just said she told you.”
“She said it was paperwork to establish residency.”
“For what?”
“Insurance.”
“My insurance?”
“No.”
“Your condo insurance?”
“At first.”
“At first?”
He swore under his breath.
I closed my eyes.
“Tell me the whole thing.”
“I don't know the whole thing.”
“Tell me your part.”
“I signed something too.”
The words came so quietly I almost missed them.
“What did you sign?”
“I thought it was related to the condo claim.”
“Like me.”
“Yes.”
My anger shifted.
Not gone.
Just forced to make room for something worse.
“When did you learn it wasn't?”
“Last week.”
“Last week?”
“Yes.”
“And you didn't tell me.”
“I was trying to fix it.”
“How?”
“I told Lauren to undo it.”
“Undo what?”
“The deed.”
The motel room seemed suddenly too small for my breathing.
“So you knew.”
“I found the county record online.”
“Why were you looking?”
“Because a letter came.”
“What letter?”
“Mom, listen.”
“No, you listen.”
My voice rose before I could stop it.
“You let me drive four hours to that house knowing there was a deed with my name on it.”
“I thought she'd already taken care of it.”
“You thought?”
“She said she had.”
“Did she show you anything?”
“No.”
“And then yesterday she changed the alarm code.”
“I know.”
“And you still didn't tell me.”
“I panicked.”
That answer was so nakedly Marcus that my anger faltered.
I could picture him in the kitchen, pacing barefoot, pulling at his hair.
He had panicked his entire life.
At nine, when he broke Harold's socket wrench and hid it behind the furnace.
At sixteen, when he backed my car into a mailbox.
At twenty-eight, when his first marriage ended and he waited three months to tell us.
He did not lie because he was clever.
He lied because truth required standing still while consequences approached.
“What letter?” I asked again.
He took a breath.
“It was from a lender.”
“What lender?”
“Sunward Equity.”
“I don't know them.”
“Neither did I.”
“What did it say?”
“That the property had been used as collateral.”
I stopped hearing the air conditioner.
“What?”
“Lauren applied for a loan.”
“Against my house?”
“She said it wouldn't go through.”
“You just said a letter came.”
“It was a notice about an application.”
“Application for how much?”
He hesitated.
“Marcus.”
“Two hundred and fifty thousand.”
The number was so absurd that I laughed.
Not because it was funny.
Because my body had apparently run out of normal responses.
“What did she need two hundred and fifty thousand dollars for?”
“I don't know.”
“You are married to her.”
“I know that.”
“Do you?”
He snapped then.
“I said I know.”
I stared at the wall.
There was a small framed print of a sailboat hanging crooked above the television.
I wanted to straighten it.
I nearly stood up to do it.
Instead, I said, “Where is Lauren?”
“I told you I don't know.”
“Did she take anything from the house?”
“I don't know.”
“Go look.”
“Mom.”
“Go look.”
I heard him moving.
A door opened.
Then another.
His footsteps became faster.
“What?”
“What is it?”
“Your desk.”
My mouth went dry.
“What about it?”
“The drawer's open.”
“Which drawer?”
“The locked one.”
For a moment neither of us spoke.
“Marcus, is my passport there?”
I heard papers moving.
Then silence.
“Marcus.”
“No.”
I stood so fast the coffee tipped over.
Brown liquid spread across the motel table and dripped onto the carpet.
“Is anything else missing?”
“I don't know.”
“Don't touch anything.”
“Why?”
“Because the sheriff is already involved.”
He swore.
“Mom, I can find her.”
“No.”
“I can fix this.”
“No.”
“Please.”
I heard his voice crack.
That nearly undid me.
Nearly.
“Marcus, you have spent a week trying to fix this without telling me.”
“I was scared.”
“So was I last night.”
He went quiet.
I lowered my voice.
“Do not call Lauren.”
“She's my wife.”
“And I'm not asking you to choose between us.”
“That is exactly what this feels like.”
“No.”
I looked at the recorded deed again.
“I'm asking you not to warn someone who may have taken my passport and used my property without permission.”
He breathed heavily.
Then he said something I did not expect.
“She has debts.”
“What kind?”
“I don't know all of them.”
“How many do you know?”
“Enough.”
“Marcus.”
“Credit cards.”
“How much?”
“Maybe eighty thousand.”
I closed my eyes.
“And?”
“Some business loan.”
“What business?”
“She tried to start an interior design company with a friend.”
“Tried?”
“It failed.”
“When?”
“Last year.”
May you like
“You never told me.”
“She didn't want anybody to know.”
