Chương 6
Ryan: I said I know.
Grant: Then stop getting nervous.
Ryan: Brooke keeps asking questions.
Grant: She asks questions when she wants money.
Ryan: She saw the account.
Grant: Then handle her.
Claire read the exchange twice.
The dates were from October.
Naomi leaned closer but did not touch the phone.
“Screenshots are not enough by themselves.”
“I know.”
“They can help point us somewhere.”
“I know.”
Claire’s voice came out sharper than she intended.
Naomi stepped back.
Claire immediately felt ashamed.
“Sorry.”
“Don’t.”
Naomi folded her arms.
“Be angry.”
“I am.”
“At me if necessary.”
Claire looked down at the toast.
“That seems inefficient.”
“Still allowed.”
Brooke sent another message.
There are originals.
Then another.
I copied stuff because Dad was talking about cutting me out.
Claire stared at it.
That sounded like Brooke.
Not bravery.
Insurance.
Self-preservation was more believable than a sudden conscience.
Claire typed.
Where are the originals?
Brooke answered almost at once.
Ryan’s old laptop.
He left it at Mom and Dad’s after Christmas.
Claire felt Naomi’s attention sharpen.
Do you have it?
No.
Can you get it?
The typing bubble appeared.
Disappeared.
Appeared again.
I can try.
Naomi shook her head.
“No.”
Claire looked at her.
“She offered.”
“She did not offer to break into somebody’s property on your behalf.”
“It’s her parents’ house.”
“That does not make the computer hers.”
Claire pressed her lips together.
Naomi continued.
“You already have a police report.
You may have financial fraud.
The last thing you need is muddy evidence because Brooke decides she’s in a crime show.”
Claire knew she was right.
That made it irritating.
She typed.
Don’t take anything.
Photograph where the laptop is if you can do that without touching it.
Do not access it.
Brooke replied with a thumbs-up.
Naomi winced.
“I hate that.”
“What?”
“The thumbs-up.”
Claire looked at her.
“Why?”
“It has the energy of somebody about to ignore instructions.”
Celeste slid another plate of toast onto the counter.
“She’s right.”
At five twelve, Claire finally lay down in Naomi and Celeste’s guest room.
Sleep did not come.
The room contained a bookshelf arranged by color, a faded armchair, and a lamp with a crooked shade.
Normal objects.
Claire stared at them until morning light began thinning the darkness around the blinds.
Every time she closed her eyes, she felt Ryan’s hands around her wrists.
Then the memory changed.
Ryan handing her tea during the worst weeks of morning sickness.
Ryan kneeling to tie her shoe when bending became uncomfortable.
Ryan laughing in the grocery store because Claire cried over a commercial playing on a tiny television near the pharmacy.
Her mind refused to simplify him for her.
At six thirty, she gave up on sleep.
Naomi was already at the dining table with coffee.
“You’re a terrible host,” Claire said.
“You were supposed to be unconscious.”
“I tried.”
“How’d it go?”
“Poorly.”
Naomi turned her laptop.
“I found the deed for the Lakewood property.”
Claire sat.
The purchase price was a little over eight hundred thousand dollars.
Front Range had put down two hundred and ten thousand.
Claire did not need Naomi to explain the number.
“That’s basically my money.”
“Possibly.”
Naomi emphasized the word.
“Don’t get ahead of what we can prove.”
Claire looked at the financing documents.
“Who guaranteed the loan?”
Naomi clicked.
The guarantor was Ryan.
Claire leaned back.
“How?”
“What do you mean?”
“He doesn’t have enough assets.”
“Maybe the lender believed he did.”
Claire’s skin prickled.
“What did he show them?”
Naomi had already thought of that.
“I don’t have the loan application.”
“Can we get it?”
“Eventually, maybe through litigation or an investigation.”
Claire stared at Ryan’s signature.
It was neat.
Controlled.
The same signature he used on birthday cards.
The same one printed beneath their marriage license.
A terrible thought arrived.
“What if he represented my assets as his?”
Naomi did not answer immediately.
“That is one possibility.”
Claire stood.
She suddenly needed distance from the screen.
The room tilted slightly.
Naomi watched her.
“Sit down.”
“I’m fine.”
“You look gray.”
Claire sat.
Naomi pushed a glass of water toward her.
“What does Ryan actually do all day?” Naomi asked.
The question sounded almost absurd.
“He consults.”
“For whom?”
“Small developers.
Tech startups sometimes.
He connects people.”
“What does that mean?”
Claire frowned.
“He has clients.”
“Names?”
Claire tried to summon them.
There had been a company in Boulder.
Something involving modular housing.
A founder Ryan met at a golf club.
A wellness app that had folded.
She could picture dinners, not contracts.
Introductions, not invoices.
Ryan always talked about deals in motion.
Potential equity.
Advisory fees.
Things about to close.
Claire had stopped asking because he became defensive.
“I don’t know.”
The admission landed heavily.
Naomi did not look pleased by being right.
“His income last year?”
“About one hundred and twenty thousand, I think.”
“You think?”
“Our accountant handles the joint return.”
Naomi removed her glasses.
“Claire.”
“I know.”
“No, I don’t think you do.”
Claire’s jaw tightened.
“Then tell me.”
“You let him create an enormous fog around money.”
The words struck accurately enough to hurt.
Naomi continued before Claire could interrupt.
“And I understand why.
You earned more.
You didn’t want him to feel managed.
You were trying not to become the rich wife who audited every dinner.”
Claire looked away.
“That sounds ugly when you say it.”
“It was generous when you did it.”
“Apparently it was stupid.”
“Those are not the same thing.”
Claire gave a humorless laugh.
“Four hundred eighty thousand dollars suggests overlap.”
Her phone rang.
Ryan.
Claire watched it.
Naomi did not tell her what to do.
The call ended.
Immediately, another began.
Then a text.
Please let me explain before you destroy everything.
Claire’s thumb hovered above the screen.
Naomi noticed.
“If you answer, assume he may record you.”
Claire looked at her.
“Can he?”
May you like
“He can try.
Colorado is generally a one-party-consent state for recording conversations, but I’m not giving you a legal lecture at seven in the morning.”
