Chương 7
“I know.”
“You keep saying that like it makes this less insane.”
Mr. Alvarez cleared his throat and very carefully focused on his tablet.
I lowered my voice.
“If I make an accusation I can’t prove, David will say I’m hysterical and Brenda will say I’m vindictive.”
“So?”
“So I’m not giving them that.”
Megan stared at me.
“This is your bank voice.”
“What?”
“The voice you use when you’re furious but trying to sound like a brochure.”
“I don’t have a bank voice.”
“You absolutely do.”
The elevator opened.
A maintenance worker stepped out carrying a metal case of locks.
Mr. Alvarez pointed him toward us.
“Unit 706.”
The man nodded.
“Deadbolt and cylinder?”
“Both.”
I followed them upstairs.
My condo looked exactly as I had left it.
A mug in the sink.
One shoe near the sofa.
The blue dress I had almost worn to the courthouse hanging over my bedroom door.
For several seconds, I stood in the entryway and looked around as though I had entered someone else’s apartment.
Megan put the bagels on the kitchen counter.
“Do you think she came in here?”
“I don’t know.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
I walked toward my desk.
The drawer where I kept old bank statements was closed.
I opened it.
Folders sat inside in their usual order.
Tax documents.
Insurance.
Mortgage.
Retirement.
Nothing looked disturbed.
Then I noticed the small ceramic bowl on the corner of the desk.
It usually held spare keys, paper clips, and two old foreign coins my father had given me.
The coins were there.
The spare mailbox key was there.
The tiny flash drive containing scans of my passport and property documents was gone.
For a few seconds, I did not move.
Megan came up behind me and looked into the bowl.
“What’s missing?”
“The flash drive.”
“What’s on it?”
“Copies of my passport, mortgage papers, tax returns, insurance records.”
Her face changed.
“Why would you keep all of that on one tiny piece of plastic?”
“Because three years ago I thought organization was a personality strength.”
“That is the most you thing you’ve ever said.”
I sat down in the desk chair.
The maintenance worker was changing the deadbolt ten feet away, metal scraping against metal.
The sound should have made me feel safer.
Instead, I kept picturing someone standing where Megan stood now, opening the drawer, touching my things.
Megan crouched beside the desk.
“When did you last see it?”
“I don’t know.”
“Yesterday?”
“No.”
“Last week?”
“I don’t use it often.”
She rubbed her forehead.
“Okay.”
“I need to check my cloud backup.”
“Does the drive have a password?”
“Yes.”
“How good?”
I looked at her.
She winced.
“Never mind.”
“It’s strong.”
“Good.”
“It still shouldn’t be gone.”
“No argument there.”
The maintenance worker called from the entryway.
“Ms. Carter?”
I stood.
He held out two new keys.
“Old key won’t work anymore.”
“Thank you.”
“You want the chain replaced too?”
I glanced at it.
The chain had always seemed decorative to me.
“Please.”
He nodded and went back to his case.
Megan tore a bagel in half with her fingers.
“Eat.”
“I’m not hungry.”
“Not relevant.”
“I genuinely can’t.”
“You genuinely can.”
She shoved half into my hand.
I took one bite because arguing with her required more energy.
My phone vibrated.
Mom again.
Then Dad.
Then a number I did not recognize.
A voicemail appeared almost immediately.
I did not play it.
Megan leaned against the desk.
“You have to call Mom.”
“I know.”
“She’ll invent worse possibilities if you don’t.”
“I know.”
“She once decided I had joined a cult because I didn’t answer for six hours.”
“You were at a silent meditation retreat.”
“That did not help my case.”
I almost smiled.
Then my phone rang again.
This time the caller ID read David’s Father.
I let it stop.
Megan watched me.
“Want me to deal with people?”
“No.”
“You say that now.”
“I need to control what gets said.”
“There’s the bank voice again.”
I swallowed another bite of bagel.
“I don’t want this turned into a family circus.”
“Too late.”
“I mean bigger.”
She folded her arms.
“What did David tell you before I called?”
“That you had an argument.”
“About?”
“Money.”
“Anything else?”
“He said you were stressed about the wedding and had a panic reaction.”
I closed my eyes.
Of course he had.
“He told you that?”
“He texted me before I got here.”
“What exactly?”
Megan took out her phone.
“Do you want to see it?”
“Yes.”
She handed it over.
The message read:
Rachel is overwhelmed and has blown a financial-planning discussion completely out of proportion.
She walked out after activating some kind of security alarm and now won’t answer me.
If she contacts you, please encourage her not to make permanent decisions while she’s upset.
I read it twice.
There was no mention of him blocking the door.
No mention of the secret authorization documents.
No mention of Brenda asking for my PIN.
He had already begun editing reality.
I handed the phone back.
“Save that.”
“Already screenshot it.”
“Send it to me.”
“You are definitely my sister.”
The maintenance worker returned.
“Chain’s done.”
I thanked him.
He packed his tools and left.
Mr. Alvarez remained in the hallway for another few minutes while Megan watched him deactivate the old guest code from the building system.
When he finished, he gave me a printed temporary access report.
“I’ve submitted the preservation request for the video.”
“How long before someone decides whether they can release it?”
“I don’t know.”
“That’s fair.”
“If law enforcement requests it, legal usually responds faster.”
Megan looked at me pointedly.
I ignored her.
Mr. Alvarez handed me his card.
“If your former fiancé returns and refuses to leave, call the front desk.”
After the door closed, I locked everything.
Deadbolt.
Chain.
Then I checked the handle twice.
May you like
Megan noticed but did not say anything.
I opened my laptop and changed the password for my building account first.
