Chương 8
“She didn’t know where your line was because you never drew one.”
Neither did Amy, her expression said.
Connor pushed the folder toward her. “I’m giving you everything. Accounts, transfers, the credit line.”
“That doesn’t undo it.”
“I know.”
She looked toward the lobby television. A weather reporter stood before a map covered in green rain bands. The sound was muted.
“What happens now?” she asked.
“I find an attorney. We check the title. We cooperate with the police. We keep her away.”
“That’s the house. What happens to us?”
Connor had prepared answers for police, work, money, locks, and court. He had none for that.
Amy picked up the picture book and placed it in Frederick’s hands.
“I want separate accounts,” she said. “Not because I’m leaving today. Because I don’t know what I’m doing yet.”
“All right.”
“I want copies of everything.”
“Yes.”
“And I don’t want you speaking for me to the police.”
He felt the last request as rejection, though he knew it was not.
“All right.”
Amy studied him, perhaps expecting resistance.
Connor swallowed it.
The property search showed no recorded transfer. Their names remained on the title. A real estate attorney explained that possession of the original deed did not give Teresa ownership and that the unsigned transfer form had no effect. The attorney was less reassuring about the financial dispute.
An unwritten gift could become an expensive argument when the giver claimed it had been a loan. Connor’s irregular payments complicated the story. The handwritten notes complicated it further. Teresa could file a civil claim even if she had no right to the house.
“What would she win?” Connor asked.
“That depends on evidence, credibility, time limits, and what a court believes the arrangement was,” the attorney said. “Nobody should promise you an outcome.”
Connor disliked every professional who refused to promise outcomes. He was beginning to understand why.
Mason called three days after the party.
Connor answered from his truck outside Frederick’s pediatric appointment. Amy was inside and had not asked him to attend.
“I need to talk,” Mason said.
“Talk to the detective.”
“I did.”
“Then we’re finished.”
“Connor, I didn’t know the kid was sick.”
Connor gripped the steering wheel. “That’s your defense?”
“No. I’m saying your mom told me the folder was about protecting her investment. She said you and Amy had agreed to sign after the party.”
“Why was it under your jacket?”
Mason breathed into the phone. Traffic moved behind his voice.
“Because the cops came in and she looked at me.”
“What does that mean?”
“You know the look.”
Connor did.
Mason continued. “She told me earlier that if there was trouble, I needed to get the papers out because Amy would destroy them.”
“So you hid stolen documents.”
“I panicked.”
“You walked toward the front door.”
“That was panic.”
“Panic can move in convenient directions.”
Mason went silent.
Connor looked through the clinic windows. Amy crossed the lobby carrying Frederick. She stopped at the reception desk.
“What was supposed to happen after the party?” Connor asked.
“A notary was coming Monday.”
“To sign what?”
“I thought a security agreement. Your mom had the transfer form too, but she said it was backup.”
“Backup for what?”
“If you refused to repay her.”
Connor closed his eyes. “A signature doesn’t become mine because she needs backup.”
“I know that.”
“Did you know it then?”
Another silence.
Mason said, “She had copies of your signature because she wanted the documents prepared correctly. That’s what she said.”
“You work in auto insurance.”
“I know what a signature is.”
“Apparently not.”
“I didn’t forge anything.”
“But you were going to stand beside it.”
Mason’s voice hardened for the first time. “You think you’re the only one she pressures? She paid my rent when I got laid off. She tells everybody I owe her. I thought if I helped with some paperwork, she’d stop calling my landlord and asking whether I was late.”
Connor’s anger shifted without disappearing.
“Send the detective every message she sent you.”
“My lawyer says not to contact anyone.”
“Then listen to your lawyer.”
“I’m trying to tell you I’m sorry.”
“You’re trying to feel like you told me.”
Connor ended the call.
Amy came outside. She opened the passenger door but did not get in.
“Was that Mason?”
“Yes.”
“What did he say?”
Connor told her.
She looked across the parking lot. “Teresa picked him because he was already ashamed.”
“That doesn’t excuse him.”
“I didn’t say it did.”
Connor reached for Frederick. Amy hesitated, then handed him over.
The child felt heavier than he had at the party. Health had weight.
“How was the appointment?”
“He’s better. They want another check next week.”
“And you?”
“She referred me to a therapist.”
“Will you go?”
Amy’s expression closed.
Connor nodded once. “Not my question.”
“It can be your question. It just can’t be an order.”
“Will you go?”
“Yes.”
They stood beside the truck while cars moved around them. Frederick grabbed Connor’s lower lip with surprising strength. Connor let him pull.
Amy almost smiled.
The family divided itself through messages.
Aunt Denise created a new group chat without Connor and Amy, then accidentally added Lila, who forwarded screenshots. Teresa claimed Amy had been mentally unwell since Frederick’s birth and had manipulated Connor into calling police. Several relatives believed parts of it because Amy had withdrawn from gatherings. Others remembered Teresa ordering Amy to clear plates while guests opened gifts. One cousin said Teresa had always treated daughters-in-law like hired help. Another replied that criticizing an older woman after an arrest was cowardly.
Photographs from the party circulated. In most, Teresa smiled beside decorations she had purchased. Amy appeared in the background carrying trays or holding Frederick. In one image taken shortly before Connor arrived, Amy stood at the sink while every chair at the long table was occupied.
May you like
Public opinion did not turn cleanly. People adjusted only enough to preserve their opinion of themselves.
Lila came to the hotel on the fourth evening.
