Chương 12
“It sounds normal.”
Maya sat down.
“There is something else.”
Neither of us moved.
“The government has identified at least one account held jointly in Claire’s and Mark’s names that received transfers from Bellamy-related entities.”
Claire’s face emptied.
“What account?”
“They would not specify over the phone.”
“I only know about one joint investment account.”
“That may be it.”
“How much?”
“I don’t know.”
Claire looked at me.
I did not speak.
She turned back to Maya.
“Does that make me part of this?”
“It makes you relevant.”
“That’s a lawyer word for yes.”
“It is a lawyer word for we need facts.”
Claire stood again.
“I never moved money for him.”
“I believe you.”
“He never asked me to.”
“Good.”
“I didn’t even know what accounts his company used.”
“Then that may matter.”
Claire paced toward the window.
“What if he put money in my account without telling me?”
“That is one possibility.”
“What’s another?”
Maya did not soften it.
“That you authorized something you did not understand.”
Claire stopped.
“And another?”
“That investigators believe you understood more than you did.”
She turned around.
“So I have to prove I was stupid.”
“No.”
Maya’s tone changed.
“You have to tell the truth.”
Claire laughed bitterly.
“What if the truth makes me look stupid?”
“Then you survive looking stupid.”
That landed.
Claire sat again.
For the first time all morning, she looked less afraid than angry.
“I hate him.”
The words came out quietly.
Maya said nothing.
Claire stared at the tabletop.
“I hate that he made me question whether I signed something.”
Her breathing tightened.
“I hate that I have to think about every dinner and every stupid document and every time he said, ‘Just sign here.’”
I watched her thumb scrape against the edge of the folder.
“I hate that part of me is still worried about whether he ate breakfast.”
That was the first thing she had said that made me understand the shape of her grief.
Not the arrest.
Not the money.
Breakfast.
A person could betray you and still occupy the part of your mind that remembered whether they got headaches when they skipped meals.
Claire wiped her eyes.
“That’s disgusting.”
“No,” I said.
She looked at me.
“It’s human.”
Her face crumpled slightly.
“I don’t want to be human about this.”
“I know.”
Maya gave us a few minutes and left the room again.
Claire sat quietly.
Then she said, “Did you ever love someone who lied to you?”
The question surprised me.
“Not like this.”
“But someone.”
“Yes.”
“Who?”
“You never met him.”
She frowned.
“I’ve met everyone you dated.”
“No, you met everyone I brought home.”
That stopped her.
“When was this?”
“Years ago.”
“What happened?”
“He was married.”
Claire stared at me.
“You dated a married man?”
“I dated a man who told me he was separated.”
“Oh.”
“Then his wife called me.”
Claire blinked.
“That is awful.”
“It was not my finest month.”
“You never told me.”
“You were getting divorced.”
Her mouth opened.
Then closed.
Our family had a strange habit of ranking pain as if only one person was allowed to be miserable at a time.
She looked down.
“I was horrible during my divorce.”
“You were busy.”
“I was horrible.”
“Yes.”
She almost smiled.
“Thanks.”
“You asked.”
The room settled into a quieter kind of sadness.
Outside the window, traffic moved through the intersection.
A man on a bicycle waited too long to cross and missed the light.
Nothing about the world reflected what had happened to us.
That felt rude and comforting at the same time.
Maya returned carrying three bottles of water.
She handed us two.
“Drink.”
Claire obeyed.
I did too.
Then Maya looked at me.
“You need counsel.”
I sighed.
“We’ve covered this.”
“I have a name.”
“Of course you do.”
“David Lin.”
“White collar?”
“And professional responsibility.”
That got my attention.
“Both?”
“Yes.”
“Expensive?”
“Yes.”
Claire muttered, “Apparently today is sponsored by attorneys.”
Maya ignored her.
“I suggest you call him before Monday.”
I took the number.
The practical part of me appreciated it.
The rest of me resented needing it.
My phone buzzed again.
This time it was Dad.
I let it ring out.
A second later, a text appeared.
Your mother is fine.
Then another.
Agents left.
Then a third.
We found more papers.
I stared at the screen.
Maya noticed.
“What?”
I showed her.
She read the messages without touching the phone.
“Do not ask what papers.”
“I wasn’t going to.”
Claire leaned over.
“What does he mean, more?”
“Don’t ask him.”
She looked at me.
“I’m allowed to ask my own father a question.”
“You are.”
Maya stepped between us before the argument could develop.
“You may ask ordinary family questions.”
Claire frowned.
“What counts as ordinary now?”
“That is unfortunately harder than it was yesterday.”
My phone rang again.
Dad.
I answered despite myself.
“What?”
His breathing was heavy.
“We need you at the house.”
“No.”
“Emma.”
“I’m not reviewing anything.”
“I’m not asking you to review it.”
“What are you asking?”
He was silent for a moment.
Then his voice dropped.
“I found a letter.”
I closed my eyes.
“Do not read it to me.”
“It has your name in it.”
Every thought in my head stopped.
“What?”
“It’s from Mark.”
Claire stood so fast her chair scraped backward.
Dad continued.
“It’s dated three months ago.”
I could barely hear him over the blood beating in my ears.
“What does it say?”
Maya snapped her fingers once.
I looked at her.
She shook her head.
I corrected myself.
“No.”
Dad sounded confused.
“What?”
“Don’t tell me.”
“Emma, your name is in this letter.”
“I heard you.”
“He wrote that if anything happened to him, we should assume you were involved.”
The room went completely still.
Dad’s voice became smaller.
“He said you had been trying to destroy his business.”
I gripped the phone.
Claire covered her mouth.
May you like
Maya held out her hand.
This time, I gave her the phone immediately.
