Chương 13
He had complained about scams and said he had hung up.
“When?”
“About ten days ago.”
“That must be why she escalated.”
“Maybe.”
“Hart.”
“Maybe.”
I almost snapped at her.
Then I stopped.
She was right.
Evidence first.
Narrative later.
“What did Dad tell the bank?”
“That he had not authorized any line of credit.”
My chest loosened slightly.
“What happened after that?”
“The application was flagged.”
“And Vanessa knew?”
“We don’t know.”
“She would have.”
“Do not do that.”
I rubbed my forehead.
“Fine.”
Hart ignored the word.
“Daniel says she became increasingly concerned afterward that your father was going to ‘ruin everything.’”
“What does everything mean?”
“We’re working on it.”
I looked toward the guest room.
Dad remained asleep.
“Did Daniel know about the loan?”
“He says no.”
“Do you believe him?”
“I’m not answering that.”
“Right.”
She paused.
“Claire, there’s another reason I called.”
I waited.
“Mercer Property Consulting was registered four months ago.”
“By whom?”
“The listed organizer is Vanessa Mercer.”
My stomach tightened.
“That still doesn’t explain Daniel.”
“No.”
“Or the lake house.”
“No.”
“Or why she needed Dad declared incompetent.”
“No.”
Hart’s voice remained steady.
“But we found something that may connect those pieces.”
“What?”
“The company’s registered mailing address is not Vanessa and Daniel’s home.”
“Where is it?”
“A private mailbox at a shipping store.”
“That’s ordinary.”
“It can be.”
“What is not ordinary?”
“The bank records Daniel turned over include an email from Vanessa telling him the company would be used to manage rental income once certain family properties were transferred.”
I went still.
“Properties.”
“Plural.”
“Yes.”
“What other properties does Dad own?”
“That is a question for him.”
I looked toward the hallway.
“The house.”
“And?”
“The lake house.”
“Anything else?”
“A small commercial building.”
Hart went quiet.
“What kind?”
“Three storefronts.”
Dad had inherited it from his older brother.
A laundromat, a tax preparation office, and a vacant unit that seemed to change tenants every year.
The rental income was not enormous.
But combined with the house and lake property, it was enough to become a serious target.
“Daniel knows about the building,” I said.
“Good.”
“He would know exactly what it earns.”
“Good.”
“Why are you saying good?”
“Because when people hide plans, they usually depend on somebody assuming too little or too much.”
I leaned against the counter.
“What are you telling me?”
“I’m telling you not to decide whether your brother is a victim, an accomplice, or both before we know what he actually did.”
I hated her for saying exactly what I had been trying not to say to myself.
“He signed documents.”
“Yes.”
“He misrepresented authorization to a bank employee.”
“Yes.”
“He removed the bat.”
“Yes.”
“And he gave you evidence afterward.”
“Yes.”
I stared at the dark coffee in my cup.
“Both.”
Hart did not answer.
She did not need to.
From the guest room, I heard movement.
Then a sharp intake of breath.
“I have to go.”
“Call if anything changes medically.”
I ended the call and went to Dad.
He was sitting on the edge of the bed, one hand pressed against his ribs.
“What are you doing?”
“Bathroom.”
“You could have called me.”
“For the bathroom?”
“Yes.”
He stared at me.
“I would rather crawl.”
“Good to know.”
I helped him stand anyway.
He leaned more heavily on me than either of us acknowledged.
Halfway down the hall, he stopped.
“What?”
He looked toward the front window.
A vehicle had pulled to the curb.
My first reaction was immediate and professional.
Unknown arrival.
Early hour.
Ongoing threat.
Then the driver’s door opened.
Daniel stepped out.
Dad went rigid against me.
My brother looked terrible.
He had changed into a gray T-shirt under his wrinkled button-down, and his face had the hollow, yellowish exhaustion of someone who had been awake too long and cried when nobody was watching.
He did not approach the house.
He stood beside his car.
Dad whispered, “How did he know I was here?”
I already knew the answer.
Location sharing.
Our family had used it since Mom got sick.
Nobody had turned it off.
I reached for my phone.
Daniel called.
I answered without taking my eyes off him.
“You should not be here.”
“I know.”
“Then leave.”
“I need to see Dad.”
“No.”
“Claire.”
“He was discharged less than an hour ago.”
“I won’t stay.”
“That isn’t the issue.”
Dad touched my arm.
I looked at him.
“Put it on speaker.”
I hesitated.
He gave me the same look he used when I was sixteen and pretending the car smelled like cigarettes because a friend had borrowed my jacket.
I put the phone on speaker.
Daniel’s breathing filled the hallway.
Dad said, “What do you want?”
My brother went silent.
Then he whispered, “I wanted to tell you I’m sorry.”
Dad closed his eyes.
Daniel continued.
“I should have stopped her.”
Dad said nothing.
“I should have stopped everything before tonight.”
Still nothing.
“I was angry at you.”
Dad opened his eyes.
“For what?”
“For making me feel stupid.”
Dad’s face changed.
“I never tried to make you feel stupid.”
“I know.”
“No.”
His voice sharpened.
“You don’t get to say that now like it solves something.”
Daniel swallowed audibly.
“I know.”
“Stop saying you know.”
My breath caught.
Dad had used my exact words.
Daniel must have noticed too.
A broken little laugh came through the phone.
“Apparently everybody hates when I say that.”
Dad’s mouth twitched.
Then the humor vanished.
“Why did you take the bat?”
Daniel answered immediately.
“Because I was scared.”
“Of the police?”
“Yes.”
“Of Vanessa?”
A pause.
“Yes.”
Dad leaned against the wall.
“Of me?”
The pause lasted longer.
“Yes.”
Dad looked as though he had been struck again.
“Why?”
“Because I knew you’d look at me and know I had helped her.”
The hallway seemed too small for the sentence.
Daniel’s voice shook.
“I didn’t know about the loan until last week.”
May you like
Dad stared toward the window.
“I didn’t know the doctor letter was fake.”
