Chương 7
Daniel followed in Nina’s car with one of Ruiz’s colleagues.
The arrangement offended his dignity so thoroughly that he spent the first five minutes sending me single-word texts.
Ridiculous.
Unnecessary.
Hostage.
I turned my phone facedown.
Rosehill Memorial sat twenty minutes away, beyond a stretch of newer subdivisions that had been farmland when I was a child.
Traffic made it thirty-two.
Those thirty-two minutes were worse than the courthouse.
At least at the courthouse, everything had already happened.
Now something could still be prevented.
My mother’s mausoleum had been Dad’s grandest bad decision.
Mom had seen one on a trip to New Orleans and told him she liked the idea of being somewhere Daniel and I could visit without worrying about mud.
She had been joking.
Dad had not realized that until after signing a contract.
By the time pancreatic cancer reduced our family to appointment calendars and pill organizers, nobody had the heart to cancel it.
She died three months before construction finished.
Dad never put her there.
Her ashes remained in a blue ceramic urn on his bedroom dresser because, he said, “She spent thirty-nine years telling me where she wanted things, so I’m waiting for clearer instructions.”
I had not been to Rosehill since the dedication.
The cemetery gates were open when we arrived.
Two patrol cars waited beside the administrative building.
A groundskeeper in a green polo pointed toward the older section.
Ruiz spoke briefly with one of the officers.
Then he returned to us.
“The Lexus is still here.”
“Evan?”
“Not at the car.”
My stomach tightened.
“Where is he?”
“We’re checking.”
Daniel stepped out of the second patrol car.
He had gone quiet.
That worried me more than his anger.
We walked along a paved path between low granite markers.
The mausoleum stood near a row of mature maples, a small gray structure with bronze doors and my parents’ surname carved above them.
HAWTHORNE.
Seeing it made my chest hurt.
Dad had paid extra for larger lettering.
Mom would have called it vulgar.
The door was open.
A police officer stood outside.
He held up one hand.
“Stay here.”
“Is someone inside?” Ruiz asked.
“Maybe.”
“Maybe?”
“Rear service panel is open.”
I looked at Nina.
She frowned.
“What rear service panel?”
I had no idea.
The officer disappeared around the structure.
Seconds later, a voice called from behind us.
“Claire.”
Evan stood thirty yards away between two rows of graves.
His tie was gone.
His jacket hung open.
He held the gray metal case against his thigh.
Nobody moved.
Daniel whispered, “You son of a bitch.”
Evan looked exhausted rather than triumphant.
That somehow frightened me more.
Ruiz moved slightly in front of us.
“Sir, set the case down.”
Evan’s eyes stayed on me.
“It belongs to the company.”
“Set it down.”
“My name is on the company.”
“That isn’t what I said.”
Evan lowered the case carefully onto the grass.
Ruiz approached him.
“Keep your hands visible.”
“This is insane.”
“Hands visible.”
Evan lifted them.
Daniel took one step forward.
Nina caught his sleeve.
“Don’t.”
Evan looked at him.
“You have no idea what your sister is doing.”
Daniel laughed once.
“Today has been full of people telling me that.”
“Ask her what happens if Mercer calls the debt.”
“I know.”
That surprised him.
His gaze snapped back to me.
“You told him?”
“He owns shares.”
“Minority shares.”
“He’s family.”
Something ugly crossed Evan’s face.
“That never mattered when you needed me to run things.”
The sentence hit because part of it was true.
After Dad’s stroke, Daniel and I had both stepped back.
Evan had stepped forward.
We had let competence become authority because we were tired.
I hated him enough that admitting that cost me something.
“You did run things,” I said.
“You also forged documents.”
His expression barely changed.
“Prove it.”
Ruiz glanced at me.
Nina murmured, “Claire.”
I stopped.
Evan saw that too.
A tiny smile touched his mouth.
There was the man from the courthouse again.
Not confident.
Performing confidence.
“Who told you about the mausoleum?” I asked.
He looked at the case.
“Frank.”
My stomach dropped.
“No.”
“He told me months ago.”
“Dad said nobody knew.”
“Frank says a lot of things now.”
Daniel surged forward.
Ruiz turned sharply.
“Sir.”
Daniel stopped.
Barely.
Evan continued.
“He forgot telling me.”
“What exactly did he tell you?” I asked.
“That he moved certain records somewhere I couldn’t get them.”
“That isn’t the mausoleum.”
“He mentioned your mother.”
My pulse thudded.
“When?”
“January.”
“Why were you asking about records in January?”
His mouth tightened.
Because January was before I found the guarantee.
Before the separation.
Before Kelsey’s pregnancy became public.
He had been searching for those records while we still slept in the same bed.
Ruiz indicated the case.
“Is that what you came for?”
Evan looked at him.
“I am an officer of Hawthorne Residential.”
“That isn’t an answer.”
“The documents relate to Hawthorne.”
“Did you have permission from the property owner to enter this structure?”
“My wife’s family owns it.”
“Ex-wife,” I said.
It was petty.
I enjoyed saying it anyway.
Evan’s jaw moved.
“The divorce became final three hours ago.”
“Still final.”
Nina gave me a look.
I shut up.
An officer came from behind the mausoleum.
“No damage to the rear access.”
Ruiz looked at Evan.
“How did you open it?”
“With a key.”
My stomach dropped.
“What key?”
He nodded toward the banker’s box sitting near the Lexus in the distance.
“Found it in the records.”
Dad had hidden the file but left the key somewhere Barbara could access.
That sounded exactly like Dad.
Half suspicious.
Half careless.
“What was in Barbara’s box?” I asked.
Evan ignored me.
“Officer, am I being detained?”
“Right now, I’m investigating a possible unlawful entry and disputed property.”
“Then investigate.”
Nina leaned close to me.
“Let the police handle the physical evidence.”
“I know.”
“You look like you don’t.”
“I’m standing still.”
May you like
“That’s not the same thing.”
Ruiz asked Evan to step away from the case.
