Chương 9
“Possibly.”
“Not possibly.”
“You did not know Mason existed twenty minutes ago.”
Mom’s mouth closed.
Grandpa looked at Ava.
“And being manipulated does not erase every decision you made.”
Ava stared at him.
“You gave someone private information that was not yours to give.”
Her shoulders shook.
“You signed or submitted things using your mother’s identity.”
Ava whispered, “Yes.”
“You hid alerts.”
“Yes.”
“You let him access your phone and accounts.”
“Yes.”
“You used Amelia’s vehicle without her permission.”
Ava looked at me.
“Yes.”
“And when you damaged it, you concealed that too.”
“Yes.”
Each answer seemed to make her smaller.
I wanted to feel vindicated.
Instead, I felt tired.
This was not the victory I had imagined when I ordered the Uber.
I had wanted Grandpa to make Ava give back the keys.
I had wanted Mom to feel embarrassed.
I had wanted one clean moment where somebody finally said I had been treated unfairly.
Instead, we were sitting around a kitchen table talking about identity theft, mortgage arrears, and a man who might have access to my sister’s phone.
Grandpa looked at me.
“Amelia.”
I raised my head.
“You need to change the vehicle account password.”
Ava swallowed.
“I can do it.”
Grandpa shook his head.
“No.”
She flinched.
He turned to me.
“The vehicle is yours.”
The sentence was simple.
Still, I felt it.
Not because of the SUV.
Because nobody had said it that plainly since the keys left my hands.
“Okay.”
He handed me the key fob.
Mom looked at it.
Then at me.
Something changed in her expression.
I could not tell whether it was shame or resignation.
Maybe both.
“Amelia.”
I waited.
Her voice came out rough.
“I shouldn’t have taken it from you.”
Ava looked at her.
Mom did not look away from me.
“I kept telling myself it was temporary.”
She rubbed one thumb against the side of her palm.
“Then every day it became easier to pretend I had already made the decision and there was no point revisiting it.”
I said nothing.
She swallowed.
“I was wrong.”
The apology did not fix anything.
It also did not feel meaningless.
That surprised me.
Ava stared at the table.
“I’m sorry too.”
I looked at her.
“For which part?”
The question came out harsher than I intended.
She winced.
“All of it.”
I almost accepted that.
Then I stopped myself.
“All of it is too easy.”
Ava looked up.
I kept my voice steady.
“You took the car.”
She nodded.
“You lied about it.”
Another nod.
“You damaged it.”
Her eyes lowered.
“And you used Mom’s identity.”
“Yes.”
“I need you to understand that those aren’t one thing.”
“I do.”
“No.”
I shook my head.
“I don’t think you do yet.”
Ava’s mouth tightened.
That familiar defensive look returned.
For one second, I saw the sister I had always known.
Then it faded.
“What do you want me to say?”
“I don’t know.”
That was the truth.
I did not have a perfect sentence waiting for her.
I did not know what restitution looked like when the stolen thing was a car but the larger theft was trust.
Grandpa’s phone buzzed again.
All four of us looked at it.
He checked the screen.
His face tightened.
“What now?” Mom asked.
He turned the phone toward us.
The SUV had just registered another remote-access attempt.
Ava stared at the notification.
“I’m not doing that.”
Grandpa looked toward the dark windows.
Neither was I.
The vehicle sat locked beside the garage.
Mason had been gone for nearly twenty minutes.
Grandpa reached for his keys.
“Everyone stays inside.”
Mom stood.
“What are you doing?”
“Calling the sheriff’s office.”
Ava went pale.
Grandpa picked up the black case with a dish towel wrapped around his hand.
“And this time, nobody deletes anything.”
Grandpa made the call from the study with the door open.
He did not use the emergency line.
He explained that there had been an unauthorized attempt to access a vehicle on his property, that financial documents belonging to someone in the house might have been taken or altered, and that a man connected to the situation had just left on foot.
His tone was so measured that listening to him somehow made the situation feel more serious.
Mom stood near the kitchen doorway with her arms wrapped around herself.
Ava sat at the table again.
I changed the password to the vehicle account from my phone while Grandpa spoke.
The app required a verification code sent to the email connected to the account.
The email was mine.
That was the first thing all night that went exactly as it should have.
I typed the code.
The account opened.
There were two authorized devices.
Mine was not one of them.
I stared at the screen.
“Ava.”
She looked up.
“How many phones did you connect to the SUV?”
“Mine.”
“Only yours?”
She hesitated.
“Yes.”
I turned the screen toward her.
“There are two devices.”
She frowned.
“What?”
“One was added eleven days ago.”
Ava stood and came around the table.
The device name was generic.
Android Mobile.
No model.
No owner.
The access history showed logins at strange hours.
Two in the morning.
Four thirty-seven.
Just after midnight on three different nights.
Ava’s face drained.
“That isn’t mine.”
“Are you sure?”
“I have an iPhone.”
I looked at Mom.
She already understood.
“Mason.”
Ava shook her head as if saying the name could somehow reject the possibility.
“He told me he was helping set up the remote features.”
I removed the device.
Then I changed the password again.
It felt excessive until the app prompted me to log out all active sessions.
I did that too.
Ava watched every step.
Her hands were trembling.
“Can he still get in?”
“I don’t know.”
Grandpa ended the call and returned to the kitchen.
“A deputy is coming.”
May you like
Mom glanced toward the black case.
It sat on the counter now, exactly where Grandpa had placed it.
