Chương 6
"Before," he said.
My throat tightened.
"How much before?"
"A couple weeks."
"January?"
"Yeah."
"Why did you tell everyone I was anxious before I even started falling?"
"I didn't."
"You did."
"Everyone knew you'd been stressed."
"No."
"You were."
"I was tired."
"You were always worried about something."
"Because things were wrong."
"You made them wrong."
He exhaled hard.
"You see how impossible this is?"
The sentence landed with such ordinary irritation that I finally understood there was nothing I could say that would make him hear himself.
He could confess and defend himself in the same breath because defense was not a strategy for Leo.
It was a reflex.
"Did Freya know?"
"No."
"Then why was she carrying my tea tin?"
"She panicked."
"About what?"
"She thought it looked bad."
"Why would it look bad if she didn't know?"
"Because police were searching everything."
"Did you call her after they took me?"
"No."
"Did you text her?"
"I don't remember."
I ended the call.
He called back immediately.
I declined it.
Then again.
Decline.
Then a text appeared.
Please don't let them turn this into something it wasn't.
I read it twice.
A second message arrived.
I was trying to fix things.
I took screenshots.
This time my hands barely shook.
When Mara arrived, she came through the doorway carrying a canvas tote bag, a phone charger, two bottles of water, and one red sneaker.
She stopped when she saw me.
For a moment neither of us said anything.
Then she held up the shoe.
"I apparently left the house during a neurological emergency affecting someone else."
I laughed.
She dropped everything into the visitor chair and came to the bed.
Her hug was awkward because of the IV and the monitor leads.
She smelled like coffee and the lavender detergent she had used since college.
"Don't make me cry," she said into my hair.
"I wasn't planning to."
"Good."
She pulled back and looked at my face.
"Do you look like hell or is the lighting criminal?"
"Both."
"Okay."
She sat down and immediately started crying.
Mara cried angrily.
She wiped tears away as though they had personally insulted her.
"What did he do?"
I handed her my phone.
"Read the screenshots."
She read slowly.
At the message about trying to fix things, her jaw shifted sideways.
She set the phone down with exaggerated care.
"I am going to kill him."
"No."
"I know."
"Do not call him."
"I know."
"Do not text him."
"I know."
"Do not post anything."
She looked offended.
"Why does everyone think I live on social media?"
"Because you once live-posted Aunt Celia's divorce hearing."
"She asked me to."
"She did not."
"She liked three posts."
"That is not consent."
Mara wiped her face again.
"Fine."
The stupid argument helped.
For thirty seconds we were sisters instead of a victim and the person who had driven two hours to see her in a hospital.
Then Mara looked at my legs.
"Can you feel anything?"
"Not much."
"Nothing?"
"Pressure sometimes."
"Can you move your toes?"
"No."
She leaned forward and stared at the blanket as if she could intimidate my feet into working.
"Stop."
"I'm not doing anything."
"You're glaring at my legs."
"They're being uncooperative."
"Mara."
"Sorry."
She picked up one of the water bottles.
"Can you drink?"
"Yes."
She unscrewed the cap and handed it to me.
I took one sip and nearly gagged.
"What?"
"Plastic taste."
"Sorry."
"No, it's not you."
The bitter tea flashed through my mouth as if memory had a flavor.
I set the bottle down.
Mara watched me.
"What?"
"I kept drinking it."
"The tea?"
"Every night."
"You didn't know."
"It tasted wrong."
"Things taste wrong sometimes."
"I told him."
Her face changed.
"About the taste?"
"Yes."
"What did he say?"
"That chamomile gets stale."
She sat back.
"That bastard."
I looked toward the window.
"I believed him."
"Why wouldn't you?"
"Because he was lying all the time."
"You didn't know that either."
"I knew some of it."
Mara waited.
The silence between us became uncomfortable.
I picked at the edge of the tape over my IV.
"He'd been moving money."
"How much?"
"At least forty thousand."
Mara stopped blinking.
"From savings?"
"Loans too."
"Against the house?"
"Yes."
She stood so fast the chair scraped backward.
"No."
"I know."
"No, you don't understand."
"I think I do."
"Your name is on that house."
"I know."
"Did you sign anything?"
"No."
"Are you sure?"
I looked at her.
Her anger shifted into something more focused.
"Judith, are you sure?"
"I would remember signing a home equity line."
"Unless he put something in front of you when you were sick."
The thought slid into me slowly.
Leo bringing papers to the couch.
Leo tapping yellow sticky flags.
Just insurance renewal.
Just tax stuff.
Just sign here.
My fingers went cold.
"Mara."
"What?"
"There were documents."
"When?"
"I don't know."
"Think."
"March maybe."
"What documents?"
"He said we were refinancing something."
"What?"
"I don't remember."
Her face drained.
"Did you sign?"
"I might have."
Mara reached for my phone.
"Who are you calling?"
"The detective."
"Wait."
"No."
"Mara, wait."
She stopped because my voice cracked.
"What?"
"I need a minute."
She sat back down.
Neither of us spoke.
Outside, somewhere below the seventh-floor window, an ambulance backed up with a faint electronic beeping sound.
Mara peeled the label from the water bottle in thin strips.
I watched her destroy it.
"I feel stupid," I said.
She kept peeling.
"Okay."
I frowned at her.
"That's all?"
"You'd get mad if I told you not to."
"Probably."
"So feel stupid."
She finally looked at me.
"Then when you're done, we figure out whether the signature is yours."
A knock came at the door.
Ruiz stepped in with a woman wearing a navy cardigan and carrying a laptop bag.
"This is Special Agent Claire Benton with the financial crimes task force."
Mara stood.
"Financial crimes?"
May you like
Ruiz looked at me.
"The search of your home turned up more than a household poisoning investigation."
