Chương 6
He stared at the screen until it stopped.
A voicemail appeared.
Amy watched from the other bed. “Play it.”
“You don’t need to hear her.”
“I said play it.”
Connor put the phone on speaker.
Teresa’s voice was controlled. No crying. No apology.
“Connor, this has gone far enough. Your cousin made a stupid decision because he panicked, and the police have turned private paperwork into something ugly. I did not harm Amy or Frederick. I paid for that home because I believed I was protecting my son. I will not discuss this through hostile messages. Call me before your wife and her new friends convince you to destroy what remains of your family.”
The message ended.
Amy said, “New friends.”
“The social worker, probably.”
“She thinks somebody had to teach me to be against her.”
Connor deleted the voicemail, then recovered it from the trash folder because Reed had told him not to discard communications.
Amy lay down without changing clothes. “She’ll call again.”
“I’ll block every number.”
“She’ll use someone else.”
“Then I’ll block them too.”
Amy closed her eyes. “You still think this is about phones.”
He sat on the other bed. “Tell me what to do.”
“I don’t know.”
“I’ll do anything.”
“That’s a lot to put on me.”
He leaned forward, elbows on his knees.
After several minutes, she said, “Go home tomorrow.”
“Without you?”
“I want my clothes. Frederick’s things. My documents.”
“I’ll get them.”
“No. I’ll go.”
“Amy—”
“I need to see whether I can walk into my own house.”
He wanted to refuse. The desire was physical, tightening across his chest. He pictured Teresa waiting inside despite the changed locks. He pictured relatives outside, cameras raised. He pictured Amy collapsing in the kitchen.
Then he heard what he was doing.
“All right,” he said. “We’ll go together.”
The next morning, a detective called before seven. Her name was Lana Ortiz, and she asked them not to handle or rearrange documents in the bedroom until she had completed a follow-up search with their permission. She also advised them to check the property records through an attorney or title company.
Connor asked whether Teresa would be charged with stealing the deed.
Ortiz did not offer a prediction. “We need to establish who removed it, when, and for what purpose.”
“It was in Mason’s jacket.”
“That establishes where officers found it.”
“He said she gave it to him.”
“He said several things. We’re reviewing them.”
Amy listened from the edge of the bed.
After the call, she said, “You don’t like her.”
“She talks like nothing means what it obviously means.”
“She talks like she has to prove it.”
Connor dressed without answering.
At the house, the birthday decorations still hung outside. Someone had placed the ruined cake box in the refrigerator. Connor did not remember doing it.
Amy stopped in the kitchen doorway.
The dishes remained. The stool sat beside the sink. A dark smear marked the tile where the bread had fallen and dissolved in dishwater.
Connor waited behind her.
She stepped inside.
For several minutes, she did nothing dramatic. She turned off the refrigerator alarm. She moved a dish towel from the stove handle to the counter. She opened a cabinet and looked at the coffee cups. Then she walked to the pantry, where the decorative bowl remained on the upper shelf.
“My phone was there?”
“Yes.”
“She watched me look for it.”
Connor’s throat tightened.
Amy took the bowl down and set it on the counter.
“She asked if I was losing things again. She said lack of sleep was making me unreliable.”
“I found it after you left.”
“She knew you would.”
“What?”
“She knew you’d find it and understand. She didn’t care.”
Detective Ortiz arrived with another officer. She was in her forties, with dark hair cut at her jaw and a habit of listening without encouraging people to continue. She photographed the pantry, the fireproof box, and the pile of mail on a desk near the kitchen.
Amy identified three mortgage statements that had been opened before she saw them. Teresa often collected the mail when visiting. Connor had never objected because his mother complained that Amy left envelopes on the entry table.
Ortiz asked Amy to show where Teresa had kept the insurance papers before Christmas.
Amy opened a drawer beneath the desk. Inside were appliance manuals, warranty cards, and a blank envelope with the logo of a mobile notary service.
Connor had never seen it.
Ortiz bagged the envelope.
“Does it prove anything?” he asked.
“No.”
His frustration showed.
She looked at him. “Evidence is usually a collection, not a magic object.”
In the bedroom, Amy packed clothing while the detective examined the open box. Connor found the blue dress he had bought and placed it on the bed.
Amy touched the sleeve.
“I guessed the size,” he said.
“It’s right.”
“There’s a pendant too.”
“I saw.”
He waited for her to open the gift bag. She folded the dress and put it in her suitcase without touching the pendant.
Detective Ortiz’s second officer called from the desk. He had found a handwritten list inside a mortgage envelope. The list included the estimated value of the house, the remaining loan balance, Connor’s annual income, and several amounts beneath Teresa’s initials.
Amy recognized the handwriting.
Connor did too.
At the bottom, Teresa had written: Transfer before project completion.
Ortiz asked what project that referred to.
“My site job,” Connor said. “The Kentucky assignment ends in September.”
“What changes then?”
“I lose the travel premium.”
“How much?”
He told her.
Amy stared at him. “You said the premium wasn’t important.”
“It’s not important to the mortgage.”
“Then why does she know the amount?”
Connor had no good answer. Teresa had asked casual questions. He had answered because refusing made every conversation longer.
Ortiz photographed the list.
“Did your mother have access to your financial accounts?”
“No.”
May you like
“Tax returns?”
“She helped me with paperwork after my father died. She might have copies.”
