Chương 9
“Your father’s outside counsel.”
“I know who he was.”
“He retired ten years ago.”
“Yes.”
“He also represented Aldridge Development for at least three transactions.”
I looked at her.
“That’s impossible.”
“No.”
“He represented us.”
“Lawyers can represent multiple clients unless conflicts prevent it.”
“Not them.”
Evelyn did not answer.
I heard Garrett’s voice in my head.
You’re forgetting things because you work too much.
I forced myself to concentrate.
“Hale showed me a document.”
“When?” Tobias asked.
“Three years ago.”
“Before the wedding?”
“About five months before.”
“What did it say?”
“That if both you and I died without children, Penelope received the family trust assets.”
Penelope sat very still.
“No.”
I looked at her.
“What?”
“No one ever told me that.”
“They weren’t supposed to unless it became relevant.”
Tobias’s face had gone pale.
“Ros, I have never seen that provision.”
“You were there.”
“No.”
“At Hale’s office.”
“I was not.”
I could see it.
A conference room.
Dark blue carpet.
Tobias beside the window in his wheelchair.
Hale sliding the pages across the table.
Garrett waiting in the lobby because I had not wanted him included in family business yet.
The memory felt complete.
Too complete.
Tobias crouched beside me.
“What was I wearing?”
I stared at him.
“What?”
“In the memory.”
“I don’t know.”
“You remember the carpet.”
“Yes.”
“You remember the table.”
“Yes.”
“Do you remember my face?”
I tried.
The image blurred.
A shoulder.
The back of a wheelchair.
No face.
My stomach contracted.
“What did he do to me?”
Tobias’s expression softened.
“We don’t know.”
“No, don’t say that.”
“Ros.”
“Don’t tell me you don’t know after hiding blood tests for two years.”
Evelyn said, “Memory disruption doesn’t necessarily create false memories from nothing.”
I turned on her.
“Then explain it.”
“Suggestion can fill gaps.”
“With what?”
“Documents, conversations, repeated stories.”
My hands started shaking.
“What are you saying?”
Tobias answered.
“Garrett may have been teaching you a version of your own history.”
I thought about all the evenings when he had corrected me gently.
No, that happened before Christmas.
You already signed that.
Toby wasn’t there, remember?
Your father always wanted Penelope protected.
Little corrections.
Tiny adjustments.
Domestic things.
Nothing dramatic enough to fight over.
I covered my face.
Penelope began crying again, silently this time.
I did not tell her to stop.
Evelyn pulled the laptop from a cabinet and opened it on the table.
“If that inheritance clause exists, we find the actual document.”
“How?”
“Your father’s estate filings won’t necessarily contain the full private trust, but corporate counsel should have copies of ownership succession instruments.”
“At the shipyard.”
“Yes.”
Tobias shook his head.
“We can’t go there.”
“I can access the archived server remotely.”
“From here?”
“Not safely.”
Evelyn looked at me.
“The archive requires a hardware token.”
I knew where it was.
The old brass key fob my father had carried for years had been converted into a security token after his death.
I kept it in the fire safe in my office.
Garrett had never shown interest in it because he thought it was sentimental.
Or I had thought he never showed interest.
Tobias saw my face.
“Where?”
“Baltimore.”
“That’s eleven hours by car.”
“Less by plane.”
“We cannot use our names at an airport.”
“I know.”
Penelope looked up.
“Julian has a plane.”
Nobody responded.
She wiped her face.
“It’s not his exactly.”
“Comforting distinction,” Tobias said.
“Mercer Marine leases it for executive travel.”
Evelyn leaned back.
“And you can get access?”
“Maybe.”
“You said Garrett hates him.”
“He does.”
“And Garrett may be monitoring you.”
“Yes.”
“And you want us to trust a man who may be the father of your child and whose company does business with ours.”
Penelope’s shoulders sagged.
“When you say it like that, it sounds bad.”
“It is bad.”
I looked at the second phone.
“Call him.”
Tobias turned.
“No.”
“You said we need to reach Baltimore before Garrett knows we survived.”
“Yes.”
“Then we need transportation he won’t expect.”
“Ros, we don’t know Mercer.”
“We know Garrett.”
“That does not make his enemy our friend.”
“No.”
I stood.
“It makes him a risk I am choosing.”
Tobias opened his mouth.
I pointed at him.
“You have made enough choices for me.”
That stopped him.
Penelope unlocked the phone.
Her thumb hovered over Julian’s name.
Before she touched it, the device began vibrating.
Incoming call.
No caller ID.
Penelope stared at the screen.
“I never gave anyone this number except Julian.”
Tobias motioned for silence.
The phone vibrated again.
Then stopped.
A message appeared.
Penelope read it and went white.
“What?”
She turned the screen toward us.
The text contained only six words.
I know Rosalind survived the river.
Tobias took the phone from Penelope without touching the message.
“Do not answer.”
Penelope stared at him.
“I wasn’t going to.”
Evelyn was already moving around the kitchen, closing the laptop, collecting the folders, wiping the coffee mugs with a towel.
I watched her erase us from the room and understood that fear could become a profession if practiced long enough.
“Could Garrett have this number?” I asked.
Penelope shook her head.
“No.”
“You said that about the car.”
“I know what I said.”
“Then somebody does.”
Tobias looked at the screen.
“Or somebody accessed Julian’s phone.”
Penelope went still.
The possibility seemed to hurt her more than it frightened her.
I recognized that expression.
It was the face a person made when betrayal had not yet become fact but had already begun rearranging the furniture inside them.
Another message appeared.
Don’t trust Evelyn Shaw.
Evelyn stopped wiping the table.
Tobias read it aloud.
Her face did not change.
That made me trust her less for approximately three seconds.
Then she said, “We leave now.”
“Convenient,” Penelope whispered.
Evelyn looked at her.
“Yes.”
The reply was so dry that Penelope blinked.
I took the phone from Tobias.
A third message arrived.
May you like
Your father did not die because of Aldridge.
My thumb hovered over the screen.
