Chương 11
At three in the afternoon, my phone had accumulated forty-seven unread messages.
I finally turned off notifications.
At three twenty, Elena called.
Her voice was sharper this time.
“We found an internal access.”
My spine straightened.
“Someone at the bank?”
“Yes.”
“Who?”
“I can’t give you the employee’s name yet.”
“Why?”
“Because compliance is handling it.”
“Was my account accessed?”
“Your customer profile was opened twice.”
My mouth went dry.
“When?”
“Once four days ago.”
“And the other time?”
“Yesterday morning.”
“Was anything changed?”
“Not that we can see.”
“What did they view?”
“Contact information, account relationships, and balance summary.”
The room seemed to recede.
Someone inside my bank had looked at my money.
“Do they know Brenda?”
“We’re investigating.”
“That means maybe.”
“It means I cannot speculate.”
I closed my eyes.
“Fine.”
“There’s more.”
Of course there was.
“The employee searched your profile from a workstation at our Northfield branch.”
I opened my eyes.
David’s younger sister, Lauren, worked at Northfield.
Not for the bank.
In the insurance office inside the same commercial complex.
I sat very still.
“Elena.”
“Yes?”
“Does the employee have the last name Mercer?”
A long pause followed.
“I can’t answer that.”
She did not need to.
I looked across the room at the cardboard box containing David’s shoes.
Until that moment, I had been trying to decide whether Brenda had pulled him into something he only half understood.
Now, for the first time, I wondered how many members of the family had been invited in before anyone thought to invite me.
For the next hour, nobody said much.
Mom put soup into bowls that went mostly untouched.
Dad finished tightening the cabinet hinge and then found another one that apparently offended him.
Megan kept packing David’s things with the ruthless efficiency of someone moving a stranger out of a hotel room.
I sat at the kitchen table with my laptop open and stared at nothing.
Lauren’s name kept circling back through my head.
She was twenty-eight, funny in a dry, impatient way, and had spent most of our engagement acting as though Brenda’s wedding obsession embarrassed her.
At Thanksgiving, when Brenda spent twenty minutes debating linen colors, Lauren had leaned toward me and whispered, “If she starts discussing napkin folds, fake a medical event.”
I had laughed so hard I choked on sparkling water.
That memory made the possibility of her involvement worse.
I picked up my phone.
Megan looked over immediately.
“Who are you calling?”
“No one.”
“Good.”
“I’m texting Lauren.”
“Bad.”
“I need to know.”
“You need to not warn people before the bank finishes investigating them.”
“I’m not going to accuse her.”
“That is exactly what people say before sending an accusatory paragraph.”
I put the phone down.
She pointed at it.
“Excellent personal growth.”
“I hate you.”
“You have told me that at least four times since high school.”
Dad came out of the kitchen holding a screwdriver.
“Don’t text anyone.”
I looked at him.
“You too?”
“I’m old, not useless.”
Mom said, “That should go on a mug.”
Dad ignored her.
“Let the bank do its work.”
I knew they were right.
That did not make waiting easier.
At four twelve, I received a message from David.
I read it without opening the thread completely.
I know you are scared, but you are letting outsiders turn this into something it isn’t.
I stared at the word outsiders.
Security officers.
My sister.
My parents.
My employer.
The police.
Anyone outside the Mercer family apparently qualified.
A second message arrived.
Mom should not have prepared the POA without telling me.
That was wrong.
I waited.
Then:
But your reaction has been extreme, and I need you to recognize your part in this.
Megan saw my face.
“What did he say?”
I handed her the phone.
She read the messages.
Then she laughed once.
Not because they were funny.
“Your part.”
“I know.”
“He blocked a door.”
“I know.”
“His mother wanted your PIN.”
“I know.”
“She had a power of attorney.”
“I know.”
“And you have a part.”
Mom looked up from the sink.
“Don’t answer him.”
I was already typing.
I stopped.
Deleted the sentence.
Typed again.
Deleted that too.
Eventually I wrote:
Do not come to my condo.
Any arrangements regarding your belongings must be made in writing.
Do not contact my workplace or attempt to access any financial or employment information belonging to me.
Do not send anyone else on your behalf.
I read it twice.
Then I sent it.
David replied in less than a minute.
So now you’re threatening me.
I did not answer.
Another message appeared.
I have never accessed your work information.
Then:
Neither has Mom.
I looked at the screen.
He had denied something I had not accused Brenda of in my message.
I took a screenshot.
Megan leaned over my shoulder.
“He volunteered that.”
“Yes.”
“Does that matter?”
“I don’t know.”
“But you’re saving it.”
“Yes.”
“Page protector?”
“Digital page protector.”
She nodded solemnly.
“Beautiful.”
At five, Dad and Mom left only after making me promise I would not stay alone.
Megan ordered Thai food.
I was not hungry, but she placed noodles in front of me anyway.
We ate at the kitchen counter while the television played silently in the living room.
A local weather anchor gestured enthusiastically at a map of approaching rain.
For ten minutes, neither of us spoke about David.
It was the most peaceful part of the day.
Then my phone rang.
Lauren.
Megan looked at the screen.
“Don’t.”
“She’s probably calling about the wedding.”
“Or about the bank.”
“She doesn’t know I know anything.”
“You don’t know that.”
The phone kept ringing.
I answered.
“Hi.”
Lauren exhaled hard.
“Okay, finally.”
Her voice sounded normal.
Too normal.
“I’ve called three times.”
“I’ve had a busy day.”
“No kidding.”
She paused.
“David says you canceled.”
“Yes.”
“Like actually canceled.”
“Yes.”
“Jesus.”
There was movement on her end, then a car door slamming.
“Why?”
May you like
I looked at Megan.
She shook her head slowly.
