Chương 10
“What did they say?”
“They said not to touch the contents until the deputy arrives.”
Ava looked at the clock.
“Are they going to arrest me?”
Grandpa’s jaw moved slightly.
“They did not discuss that.”
Mom immediately said, “You’re not going anywhere.”
Grandpa looked at her.
“Do not promise what you cannot control.”
Mom turned on him.
“She’s my daughter.”
“I am aware.”
“You’re acting like she’s some stranger.”
“I’m acting like facts still exist even when they involve someone we love.”
Mom looked away.
That sentence silenced her more effectively than shouting would have.
We waited.
Ten minutes passed.
Then twenty.
The house seemed to shrink around ordinary sounds.
The ice maker dropped a tray of cubes.
A motorcycle passed on the road.
Somewhere outside, a dog barked twice and stopped.
Ava unlocked her phone every thirty seconds without doing anything with it.
Finally I said, “Stop checking.”
She looked at me.
“I’m not checking anything.”
“You’ve opened the same screen six times.”
She set the phone facedown.
“Sorry.”
I went to the refrigerator and took out a bottle of water.
I realized I was still wearing the same blouse I had put on for dinner.
There was a tiny spot of gravy near the cuff.
I rubbed at it with my thumb until the fabric darkened.
Mom watched me.
“You should eat something.”
I almost laughed.
“Now?”
“You barely ate dinner.”
“Neither did you.”
“I’m not hungry.”
“Neither am I.”
For a second, we sounded like ourselves again.
Not the version of us from the study.
Not people discussing identity theft.
Just a mother and daughter arguing pointlessly about food.
Then headlights moved across the front windows.
Ava stood so fast the chair bumped the wall.
Grandpa reached for his cane.
The deputy was younger than I expected.
Maybe early thirties.
He introduced himself as Deputy Harris and asked Grandpa to start from the beginning.
Grandpa did.
Briefly.
He described the vehicle.
The tracker.
The unauthorized use.
The damage.
The man named Mason.
The document case.
The remote-access attempts.
He left out every opinion.
Deputy Harris listened without interrupting.
Then he asked who owned the SUV.
Grandpa pointed at me.
“Amelia.”
The deputy looked at me.
“Title in your name?”
“Yes.”
“Insurance?”
“Yes.”
“Who had permission to drive it tonight?”
I hesitated.
The answer was complicated in practice and simple legally.
“I didn’t give anyone permission.”
Ava looked down.
Deputy Harris glanced at her.
“You were driving it?”
“Yes.”
“Did you believe you had permission?”
Ava looked at Mom.
Mom closed her eyes.
“I gave her the keys,” Mom said.
The deputy shifted his attention to her.
“Are you an owner of the vehicle?”
“No.”
“On the title?”
“No.”
“Insurance policy?”
“No.”
He nodded once and wrote something down.
He did not lecture anyone.
That almost made it worse.
Then he asked about Mason.
Ava gave his full name.
She knew his phone number.
She knew the Fort Mill apartment address.
She did not know whether it was actually his apartment.
She had never seen a lease.
Never seen mail with his name on it.
Never met a roommate.
Never met a coworker.
The questions exposed how little she really knew.
“Employer?” Deputy Harris asked.
Ava shook her head.
“He works for himself.”
“Business name?”
She hesitated.
“Reed Strategic.”
“Registered where?”
“I don’t know.”
“Office?”
“The mailbox, maybe.”
Deputy Harris looked at Grandpa.
“Did this man threaten anyone tonight?”
Grandpa said, “Not explicitly.”
Ava stared at the table.
The deputy noticed.
“What did he say?”
“He told me to be careful.”
“In what context?”
“When I contradicted him.”
“Did you take it as a threat?”
Ava thought about that.
“I don’t know.”
Deputy Harris nodded.
“That’s fine.”
Mom stepped closer.
“Fine?”
“He’s not saying the situation is fine.”
Grandpa’s voice was quiet.
Mom looked embarrassed.
Deputy Harris continued.
“I’m asking what she perceived at the time.”
Ava rubbed her hands together.
“At the time, I thought he meant I was making things worse.”
“And now?”
She looked toward the black case.
“Now I’m not sure.”
The deputy asked to see the messages.
Ava handed him her phone.
He did not scroll freely.
He asked her to open the conversation herself.
There was the message Mason had shown us.
Or rather, there was no matching outgoing message on Ava’s phone.
Deputy Harris photographed both screens with his department phone after Mason’s message was described.
He asked whether Ava had access to Mason’s device.
“No.”
“Did he ever leave his phone with you?”
“No.”
“Do you know his passcode?”
“No.”
The deputy nodded.
“So we cannot say at this point whether the message was fabricated, sent from another device logged into your account, deleted from your phone, or something else.”
Ava looked disappointed.
I understood why.
She wanted certainty.
We all did.
But certainty had apparently become expensive.
Deputy Harris turned toward the black case.
“Who touched this after the man left?”
Grandpa explained how he had moved it using the towel.
The deputy looked at him.
“You didn’t need to do that.”
Grandpa’s mouth tightened.
“I gathered that after the fact.”
It was the closest thing to an admission of error I had heard from him all night.
Deputy Harris almost smiled.
Then he put on gloves.
He opened the case.
The first contents were exactly what Ava had described.
Copies of Mom’s driver’s license.
Tax returns.
Two bank statements.
Credit card statements.
A printed loan application.
Grandpa leaned forward.
Deputy Harris raised a hand.
“Please stay back.”
Grandpa stopped.
Mom stared at the papers as if they belonged to someone else.
The deputy read the first page.
“Diane Carter?”
Mom nodded.
“That’s me.”
“Did you apply for a personal loan through Bellweather Lending?”
“No.”
Ava whispered, “I did.”
Deputy Harris looked at her.
“You applied using her information?”
“Yes.”
“Did she authorize it?”
“No.”
Mom gripped the back of a chair.
Ava’s eyes filled again.
Deputy Harris wrote something down.
“Did anyone assist you?”
“Yes.”
May you like
“Mason Reed?”
“Yes.”
