Chương 10
“With who?”
“No one.”
“Where did she go?”
Denise hesitated.
“She said she was going home.”
I looked at Maya.
She could hear enough from my side to understand.
“Why?”
“She said she needed clothes.”
“That doesn’t make sense.”
“I know.”
“Is Dad with you?”
“Yes.”
“Put him on.”
There was muffled arguing.
Then Dad came on.
“What?”
“Why did Mom leave?”
“She wanted to check the house.”
“For what?”
“I don’t know.”
“You let her go?”
“She’s an adult, Emma.”
My patience snapped.
“Did she say anything about documents?”
Silence.
“Dad.”
“She said she wanted to find the loan papers.”
Maya was already standing.
I closed my eyes.
“Call her.”
“She’s not answering.”
“When did you last speak to her?”
“Five minutes ago.”
“What did she say?”
“That she was almost home.”
Maya held out her hand for my phone.
I gave it to her.
“This is Maya Alvarez, counsel for Claire Bennett.”
Dad’s voice became instantly suspicious.
“Why are you on my daughter’s phone?”
“Because your wife may be about to interfere with evidence relevant to a federal investigation.”
“She is looking for our own paperwork.”
“That paperwork may matter.”
“She owns the house.”
“That does not make every document in it legally harmless to move, destroy, alter, or conceal.”
“She would never destroy anything.”
Maya looked at me.
I did not confirm that.
Dad went quiet.
Maya continued.
“You need to call your own attorney now.”
“I have one.”
“Your own attorney.”
He did not answer.
Maya handed the phone back.
“Tell him not to go after her.”
I did.
Dad responded exactly as expected.
“I’m going after her.”
“No.”
“She’s my wife.”
“And if you both start touching documents, you can make this worse.”
“You don’t get to order me around.”
“No.”
I looked at Claire.
She had gone pale again.
“But apparently somebody has to tell you when to stop.”
Dad hung up.
For a second, I wanted to throw the phone.
Instead, I placed it carefully on the table.
Claire whispered, “Mom wouldn’t destroy anything.”
Maya asked, “Would she hide something embarrassing?”
Claire and I answered at the same time.
“Yes.”
Neither of us looked at the other.
Maya reached for her desk phone.
“I am calling the prosecutor.”
Claire stood.
“Are you reporting my mother?”
“I am protecting you from becoming part of whatever your mother thinks she is fixing.”
That sentence finally broke through Claire’s denial.
She sank back into the chair.
“Oh my God.”
I pictured Mom entering the quiet house.
The piano in the front room.
The kitchen where blue folders had once sat beside dinner plates.
The small desk Dad used for taxes and insurance papers.
My mother never threw away anything important.
She kept appliance warranties for machines we had stopped owning ten years earlier.
If she wanted those loan documents now, there was a reason.
I grabbed my bag.
Maya looked up.
“Where are you going?”
“Nowhere.”
She watched me.
I forced myself to sit again.
Every instinct in me wanted to drive to the house and take control.
That instinct was exactly what everyone kept warning me about.
So I stayed in the chair.
It was one of the hardest useful things I had done all morning.
Maya called the federal prosecutor and spoke in careful, neutral language.
She did not accuse Mom of destroying evidence.
She simply said a family member had indicated an intention to retrieve documents connected to financial transactions under investigation.
When she hung up, Claire whispered, “What happens now?”
“I don’t know.”
That answer came from Maya.
Not evasive.
Not comforting.
Just true.
Ten minutes later, my phone rang from an unknown number.
I almost ignored it.
Then I answered.
“Emma Bennett?”
“Yes.”
“This is Special Agent Nathan Cole with the FBI.”
Claire’s eyes locked on mine.
I said nothing.
The agent continued.
“I’m calling because your mother is currently at her residence, and we need to speak with her.”
My mouth went dry.
“Is she under arrest?”
“No.”
“Then why are you calling me?”
A pause.
“Because she gave us your name.”
I looked at Claire.
“What did she say?”
“She said you could explain why she has a folder containing documents with signatures she claims she does not remember making.”
For a moment, I thought I had misunderstood him.
“What kind of documents?”
“I’m not discussing evidence with you over the phone.”
“Then why call me?”
“Because your mother identified you as someone who may understand the financial context.”
“I may not.”
“That’s fine.”
His voice was calm in a way that made everything feel more serious.
“We are not asking you to interpret anything right now.”
I looked at Maya.
She held out her hand.
I put the call on speaker.
“This is Maya Alvarez,” she said.
“I represent Claire Bennett.”
There was a brief pause.
“Ms. Alvarez.”
“You just spoke with my office.”
“I did.”
“Is Mrs. Bennett being detained?”
“No.”
“Has she asked for counsel?”
“She has not.”
“Then please be very clear with her about her status.”
“We have been.”
Maya looked at me.
“Emma is not available to explain evidence.”
“That’s not what I requested.”
“What are you requesting?”
“Nothing formal.”
Maya’s expression said she disliked that answer.
Agent Cole continued.
“Mrs. Bennett is upset and keeps referring us to Emma.”
My mother had spent most of my adult life dismissing my expertise until the exact moment it became useful to her.
Even now, I could picture her standing in the front hall with one hand pressed to her chest, saying my name like it was a professional credential she had personally earned.
I asked, “Is she alone?”
“There are two agents with her.”
“Did she call my father?”
“She said she tried.”
Maya gave me a warning look.
I ignored it.
“Can I speak to her?”
Agent Cole hesitated.
“That is up to her.”
A muffled conversation followed.
Then my mother came on.
May you like
“Emma.”
Her voice was thinner than I had ever heard it.
