Chương 12
Rose had been coming into our kitchen during those months.
Eating our food.
Complaining about work.
Borrowing a sweater.
Making jokes.
I had never noticed anything beyond her usual carelessness.
That unsettled me more than I wanted to admit.
“Why didn’t you ask Daniel?” I said.
“I did before.”
Daniel’s face, though I could not see it, appeared in my mind.
The loans.
The quiet repayment.
The way Rose always returned just enough to keep the door open.
“I wasn’t asking him again.”
“So you asked your mother.”
“Eventually.”
“And she gave you three thousand.”
“Yes.”
“That still leaves five.”
“No.”
I frowned.
“What?”
“I paid Evan some of what Mom gave me.”
“How much do you owe him now?”
Silence.
Daniel said, “Rose.”
“Almost six.”
The arithmetic made no sense.
“That went up?”
“I told you, there are fees.”
“Fees?”
“I don’t know what else to call them.”
I started pacing.
“Did he threaten you?”
“No.”
Too quick.
“Rose.”
“He didn’t threaten me.”
“Did he threaten to do something if you didn’t pay?”
“That is the definition of threaten.”
Daniel’s patience broke.
“For once in your life, stop trying to be clever.”
Rose went silent.
The turn signal stopped.
Maybe Daniel had pulled over.
When Rose spoke again, her voice was smaller.
“He knew where I worked.”
“That’s not a threat by itself.”
“He knew where Mom lived.”
Daniel said nothing.
Neither did I.
“He said he didn’t like being ignored.”
“What exactly did he say?”
“I don’t remember word for word.”
“Then give me the part you remember.”
“He said people who owe him should be reachable.”
My skin prickled.
“And?”
“He said it would be embarrassing if he had to start finding me through family.”
Daniel’s voice went flat.
“That is a threat.”
“I know.”
“What happened at the lake house last month?”
“He wanted to talk somewhere nobody knew me.”
“So you gave him my mother’s house.”
“I didn’t give him anything.”
“You brought him there.”
“Yes.”
“Why there?”
“I was scared he’d come to my apartment.”
“And you were fine with him knowing where my house was?”
“I wasn’t thinking like that.”
The truth of that sentence made it worse.
Rose had never thought beyond the edge of her own immediate problem.
“I showed him I didn’t have money.”
“How?”
“What do you mean?”
“You met a private lender at a lake house that belongs to somebody else.”
I stopped pacing.
“What exactly did you show him?”
“My banking app.”
“Anything else?”
“No.”
“Did you tell him the house was yours?”
Silence.
I closed my eyes.
Daniel said, “Rose.”
“I didn’t say it was mine.”
“What did you say?”
“I said it was family property.”
My fingers went cold.
“Did you tell him my mother had died?”
“I might have.”
“Did you tell him there were valuables here?”
“No.”
The denial came fast.
Then she corrected herself.
“Not directly.”
I pressed my palm against the dresser.
“What did you say?”
“I don’t know.”
“Try.”
“He asked if I owned any property.”
“And?”
“I said my family had this place.”
“That is not the same thing as you owning it.”
“I know.”
“Did you make him think you had access to it as an asset?”
“No.”
“Rose.”
“I don’t know what he thought.”
That was probably the truest thing she had said.
Daniel asked, “Did he go upstairs?”
“Yes.”
My heart kicked.
“Why?”
“He asked to use the bathroom.”
“There’s a bathroom downstairs.”
“I know.”
“Did you tell him that?”
“Yes.”
“What did he say?”
“He said he needed privacy.”
A chill moved through me.
“Did you leave him alone?”
“For a few minutes.”
“How many?”
“I don’t know.”
“Five?”
“Maybe.”
“Ten?”
“No.”
“Did you see him near the lockbox?”
“No.”
“Did you show him the bedroom?”
“No.”
I looked at the empty shelf again.
The lockbox had been in a closet.
Not visible from the hallway.
Someone would have needed to search.
“Did you tell Melissa about the lockbox before or after meeting Evan?”
Rose hesitated.
“After.”
That mattered.
“How did you know it existed?”
“I saw it that day.”
I stopped.
“Where?”
“In the closet.”
My throat tightened.
“You opened my mother’s closet?”
“I was looking for a towel.”
“There are towels in the bathroom.”
“I didn’t know that.”
“And the lockbox?”
“It was on the shelf.”
“You opened it?”
“No.”
“Did Evan?”
“I don’t know.”
“Was it locked?”
“I think so.”
It had been.
I kept the key in my desk at home.
Or at least I thought I did.
I went downstairs while still on the call.
“Daniel, where are you?”
“Pulled over.”
“Stay there.”
I crossed the living room and opened the desk drawer where I kept duplicate house documents, spare appliance keys, and old receipts.
The small brass key for the lockbox should have been inside a ceramic cup.
It was not.
I emptied the cup onto the desk.
Two mailbox keys.
A tiny key for luggage I no longer owned.
Nothing else.
My pulse picked up.
“The lockbox key is gone.”
Daniel said, “Could it be somewhere else?”
“Maybe.”
I opened the next drawer.
Nothing.
“Rose, did you take a small brass key from my desk?”
“No.”
“Did you open this desk last month?”
“No.”
“Did Evan?”
“I don’t know.”
“You left him downstairs too?”
“He was downstairs before we went upstairs.”
“How long?”
“I made coffee.”
I laughed in disbelief.
“You made coffee for the man you owed thousands of dollars?”
“What was I supposed to do?”
“Apparently anything except protect someone else’s property.”
Rose made a wounded sound.
“Claire, I was terrified.”
That landed.
Not enough to erase anything.
Enough to alter the shape of my anger.
I sat at the desk.
“Why didn’t you tell us?”
“Because I knew what you’d say.”
“What would I say?”
“That I’m irresponsible.”
I had no answer because I had thought exactly that.
May you like
Daniel said, “Rose, there’s a difference between being irresponsible and being in danger.”
“You say that now.”
