Chương 12
Normal process.
The phrase irritated Thomas when Audrey repeated it to him in the lobby.
“What does that mean?”
“It means normal process.”
“That is meaningless.”
“It means nobody is arresting Julian because we had a compelling forty-minute conversation.”
Thomas’s expression hardened.
“He admitted—”
“Dad.”
He stopped.
Audrey was surprised by how exhausted his anger made her.
Mara noticed.
“We’re leaving.”
Thomas looked toward the security desk.
“What if he comes here?”
“He won’t know she’s here unless someone tells him.”
Audrey’s phone vibrated.
All three of them looked at it.
A text from Eleanor.
Please stop punishing everyone.
Audrey stared at the words.
Then a second message arrived.
Your father is filling your head with nonsense again.
Thomas saw it over her shoulder.
His face went still.
Audrey turned the phone away.
“Don’t.”
“I didn’t say anything.”
“You were about to.”
His mouth twitched despite everything.
Audrey recognized her own words from that morning and hated the resemblance.
She put the phone into her bag.
They walked outside.
The afternoon had turned warm.
A group of courthouse employees were eating sandwiches on a low stone wall across the street.
One woman laughed so loudly that everyone near her turned.
Audrey envied them for reasons she could not name.
Thomas offered to drive her back to the apartment.
Mara said she would.
Thomas looked offended.
Audrey said, “I want Mara to.”
He accepted it.
That hurt too.
They separated at the parking garage.
Thomas paused beside his car.
“Call me if you need anything.”
Audrey nodded.
He opened the door, then stopped.
“I should have told you about the trust.”
She looked at him.
“Not today.”
He frowned.
“I’m trying to apologize.”
“I know.”
“And?”
“And I can’t do that part right now.”
Thomas stood with one hand on the car door.
For once, he did not push.
“Okay.”
He got in.
Audrey watched him drive away.
Mara unlocked her car.
“You were cruel to him.”
Audrey looked sharply at her.
Mara opened the driver’s door.
“You can be angry and still be cruel.”
“I didn’t ask for commentary.”
“No.”
Mara got in.
Audrey stood on the passenger side for another moment before entering.
The car smelled faintly of peppermint gum.
Mara started the engine.
Audrey buckled her seat belt carefully around her ribs.
“I know.”
“What?”
“That I was cruel.”
Mara backed out.
“Good.”
“I also meant it.”
“That happens.”
Audrey looked out the window.
“You’re very irritating.”
“I’ve been told.”
They stopped for food on the way back.
Not because Audrey wanted food.
Because Mara refused to let her take another pain pill on crackers.
The restaurant was a small diner near the apartment building.
Audrey ordered soup.
Mara ordered eggs despite it being afternoon.
“You eat breakfast at two?”
“I eat eggs whenever someone will cook them.”
“That sounds pathological.”
“It’s efficient.”
Audrey stirred the soup.
For five minutes they talked about nothing.
Mara complained that her firm had replaced the good coffee machine with something that produced what she called “warm administrative water.”
Audrey told her about a coworker who labeled office leftovers with increasingly threatening notes.
The normal conversation felt illicit.
Then Audrey’s phone buzzed.
An email.
Subject line: NOTICE OF DEFAULT.
She opened it.
Her appetite disappeared.
The message was from the lender whose logo she had recognized.
It referenced a loan secured by the townhouse.
Past due.
Thirty-seven days delinquent.
Outstanding balance: $84,612.18.
Audrey handed the phone to Mara.
Mara read in silence.
“Did you ever receive notices before?”
“No.”
“Check spam.”
Audrey did.
Nothing.
“Trash?”
Nothing.
Mara tapped the sender address.
“Looks legitimate, but don’t use the links.”
“I know.”
Audrey searched the lender’s official site manually.
Then she called the published servicing number.
Mara put down her fork.
“Use speaker.”
A representative answered after twelve minutes of hold music.
Audrey gave her name and property address.
The representative asked for the last four digits of her Social Security number.
Audrey provided them.
Then came a pause.
“I see the account.”
Audrey’s fingers tightened.
“Am I listed as a borrower?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Who is the co-borrower?”
“Julian Hale.”
“Can you tell me when the loan originated?”
“November third of last year.”
Audrey looked at Mara.
Two weeks after the deed.
“Can you tell me how the application was submitted?”
“I can see that it was completed electronically.”
“From where?”
“I don’t have that information.”
“Was there an in-person closing?”
Another pause.
“It appears remote.”
Audrey closed her eyes.
“Who verified my identity?”
“I can’t see the full closing package from this screen.”
“Can you send it to me?”
The representative hesitated.
“I can send documents to the email address on file.”
“What address is that?”
“I can confirm it if you provide it.”
Audrey gave her personal email.
“That does not match.”
Her stomach dropped.
“What email do you have?”
“I’m sorry, I can’t disclose an unverified email address.”
Mara wrote something on a napkin.
ASK MAILING ADDRESS.
Audrey did.
The representative confirmed a post office box Audrey had never rented.
Mara wrote again.
REQUEST FRAUD DEPARTMENT.
Audrey asked to be transferred.
The hold music returned.
She stared at the bowl of cooling soup.
“Julian changed the contact information.”
Mara said, “Or someone did.”
“You really can’t let me have one declarative sentence.”
“Not when the sentence outruns the proof.”
Audrey leaned back.
The booth pressed against her ribs.
She adjusted.
“What happens if I stop paying a loan I never knew existed?”
“We figure out whether payments were coming from you in the first place.”
Audrey frowned.
She opened her joint checking account.
Monthly withdrawals.
Different amounts.
Labeled vaguely.
She had assumed they were Julian’s student loan payments.
Now she opened one.
The destination identifier matched the lender.
Audrey stared.
“I was paying it.”
Mara leaned closer.
“How much?”
“Between nine hundred and eleven hundred a month.”
“For how long?”
Audrey scrolled.
“Ten months.”
May you like
“That explains part of why your joint account kept running low.”
Audrey thought of arguments over groceries.
