Chương 7
Some bank statements from accounts long closed.
At least, that was what I remembered.
My heart began beating harder.
I called Daniel.
He answered immediately.
“Did they find anything?”
“Did you ever put anything in Mom’s lockbox?”
“What lockbox?”
“The gray one upstairs.”
“No.”
I sat on the edge of the guest bed.
“It’s gone.”
“What was in it?”
“Documents.”
“What kind?”
“I don’t know.”
“You don’t know?”
“I haven’t opened it in maybe a year.”
Daniel was quiet.
Then, carefully, “Any financial information?”
“Old statements.”
“Social Security number?”
The question made my stomach tighten.
“Probably.”
“Claire.”
“I know.”
“No, I mean if someone has her old statements, your birth certificate, maybe tax stuff—”
“I know.”
We both fell silent.
I could hear keyboard sounds on his end.
“What are you doing?”
“Looking up identity theft steps.”
“She’s dead.”
“That doesn’t always stop fraud.”
I rubbed my forehead.
The house suddenly felt contaminated in a way dirt could not explain.
Someone might have walked through these rooms looking not for sentimental objects but for anything they could sell, use, or exploit.
“I’m calling the deputy back.”
“Do that.”
Then Daniel hesitated.
“Should I come up?”
I almost said no.
The word rose automatically.
Then I looked at the empty shelf.
“Yes.”
He arrived ninety minutes later carrying two coffees and a paper bag from the diner near the highway.
“You probably haven’t eaten.”
“I had crackers yesterday.”
“That sentence proves my point.”
He handed me a turkey sandwich.
We sat at the kitchen counter because the cleaners had finished there.
The house smelled faintly of lemon disinfectant.
Daniel chewed without speaking.
I liked him most when he stopped trying to make difficult things comfortable.
After a while, he said, “Rose called me again.”
“What did she want?”
“She’s scared.”
“She should be.”
“She thinks the police are going to arrest her.”
“They might ask her questions.”
“I told her that.”
I unwrapped the second half of my sandwich.
“She’ll survive being uncomfortable.”
Daniel stared at his coffee.
“There’s something I need to tell you.”
My hand stopped.
He looked embarrassed.
Not guilty exactly.
That distinction mattered.
“What?”
“When Rose asked you about the house, she’d already mentioned it to me.”
My appetite disappeared.
“When?”
“A couple days earlier.”
“What did she say?”
“She asked whether we were using it this weekend.”
“And?”
“I said I didn’t think so.”
I waited.
Daniel kept his eyes on the cup.
“She said she was trying to figure out somewhere to have her birthday.”
“What did you say?”
“I said she’d have to ask you.”
“That’s all?”
“Yes.”
He paused.
“Mostly.”
I felt something cold move through my chest.
“Mostly?”
“She joked that you’d say no.”
“And what did you say?”
“I said you probably would.”
I set the sandwich down.
Daniel continued before I could speak.
“I also said I didn’t personally care if she used it.”
There it was.
A tiny sentence.
A completely ordinary sentence.
Enough ambiguity to become a weapon in Rose’s hands.
“You told her you didn’t care.”
“I told her it wasn’t mine to decide.”
“Before or after?”
He frowned.
“What?”
“Did you say it wasn’t yours to decide before or after you told her you didn’t care?”
“I don’t remember.”
I stood.
“Claire.”
“She heard permission.”
“No.”
“She heard exactly what she wanted to hear.”
“That doesn’t mean I gave her permission.”
“You gave her cover.”
His jaw tightened.
“I told her to ask you.”
“And then when I said no, she came back to you.”
“She didn’t.”
I looked at him.
He shifted.
“She mentioned it.”
“Daniel.”
“She said you were being unreasonable about the house.”
“And what did you say?”
“I said I wasn’t getting involved.”
I laughed once.
It sounded unpleasant even to me.
“You were involved before I was.”
“That’s not fair.”
“You keep saying that when you mean uncomfortable.”
His face changed.
“I am not responsible for Rose taking that key.”
“No.”
I pointed toward the ceiling.
“You’re responsible for teaching her there’s always a side door around my answer.”
“That’s bullshit.”
The word hit harder because Daniel almost never swore at me.
For a moment neither of us moved.
Then he stood too.
“I have spent years trying to keep you two from tearing each other apart.”
“I never asked you to.”
“You didn’t have to.”
“Yes, I did.”
He stared at me.
I could feel my anger sliding beyond the immediate problem into older territory.
Christmases.
Birthdays.
Unpaid loans.
Broken plans.
Times I had smiled because the alternative seemed exhausting.
“You don’t keep peace,” I said.
“You redistribute consequences.”
Daniel’s mouth opened, then closed.
His phone rang.
Rose’s name appeared on the screen.
Neither of us touched it.
It rang until voicemail.
Then mine rang.
Deputy Hale.
I answered.
“We’ve spoken with a few people,” he said.
“That was fast.”
“One of them gave us something useful.”
Daniel watched my face.
“What?”
“A video from the party.”
My pulse jumped.
“Of the bedroom?”
“Not exactly.”
He paused.
“It shows someone carrying a gray lockbox downstairs.”
I sat back down.
“Who?”
“We’re working on that.”
“Can I see it?”
“Not yet.”
I hated that answer.
“Was Rose in the video?”
Another pause.
“Yes.”
Something in his voice made my stomach tighten again.
“What was she doing?”
“She was talking to the person carrying the box.”
I looked at Daniel.
His face had gone still.
“What did she say?”
“We can’t make out everything.”
“What can you make out?”
Deputy Hale exhaled softly.
“Enough to know she saw the box.”
I closed my eyes.
Rose had told me she did not know anybody had taken anything.
The deputy continued.
“We’ll need to speak with her in person.”
“When?”
“We’re contacting her now.”
Daniel’s phone began ringing again.
Rose.
This time he answered.
“Hey.”
Her voice came through so loudly that I heard the panic even from across the counter.
“Daniel, I need you to come get me.”
He frowned.
May you like
“From where?”
There was a breath.
