Chương 5
That morning it had held more than forty thousand.
The investment account required additional verification through a phone number belonging to Ivan’s office.
Her personal savings—twenty-six thousand dollars she had accumulated in small transfers and restoration payments—remained untouched in a separate bank.
It would cover her mother’s bill, several months of rent, and not much else if Ivan forced a prolonged legal fight.
Dana entered carrying a leather tote, two phones, and the hard expression she normally reserved for opposing counsel.
She was fifty-two and wore gray suits even in summer. Her dark curls had frizzed slightly in the heat.
She stopped beside the bed.
“Let me see.”
Elena held up the bandaged hand.
Dana’s face changed.
Not dramatically. Her mouth tightened, and she set the tote down with more care than necessary.
“I’m sorry,” she said.
Elena looked away.
“I wasn’t supposed to need the plan today.”
“Plans are often offended by reality.”
“He emptied the account.”
“I know.”
“How?”
“Your banker called me after you gave me authorization last month. Ivan transferred the cash shortly before police arrested him. He also tried to cancel the lease on your studio.”
“He can’t. My company is the tenant.”
“He told the landlord he was withdrawing the guarantee.”
“There is no guarantee.”
“I know that. The landlord wasn’t sure.”
Elena closed her eyes.
“My mother’s payment was reversed.”
“We’ll pay it from the escrow fund.”
“What escrow fund?”
“The one you established with me.”
“That money is for legal fees.”
“It is your money. We will replenish it when temporary support is addressed.”
“If support is addressed.”
Dana pulled the chair closer.
“We need to discuss tonight.”
“The safe apartment?”
“Compromised.”
Elena opened her eyes.
“How?”
“Cynthia knows about it.”
“How could Cynthia know?”
“Because the property manager called Voss Holdings when she noticed that the deposit had been wired from a business account associated with you.”
“My restoration company.”
“Which uses the Voss building as its mailing address.”
Elena stared at her.
Dana continued. “The manager thought she was confirming a corporate rental. The call was routed to Ivan’s office. His assistant noted the address.”
“Four months ago?”
“Yes.”
“And no one told me?”
“I learned an hour ago.”
“Does Ivan know?”
“We assume he can access the note.”
Elena laughed softly.
The laugh became a shudder.
Dana reached toward her, stopped, and rested her hand on the bed rail instead.
“I have another location.”
“No.”
“Elena.”
“No more places arranged through anyone connected to my company, your office, his properties, or people who think discretion means telling Cynthia.”
“This one is a hotel reservation under my name.”
“He knows your name.”
“Of course he knows my name.”
“He knows where you live. Where you work. He knows your husband’s name, your daughter’s school, the charity board you left after he threatened to pull funding.”
Dana’s eyes narrowed.
“That information was confidential.”
“Nothing is confidential to him. It’s only expensive.”
The attorney sat back.
“What do you suggest?”
Elena looked at her phone.
There was one person Ivan would not expect her to call because he had spent years ensuring she felt too ashamed to call her.
Her younger brother answered on the fourth ring.
“Elena?”
“Hi, Noah.”
He did not speak.
She heard traffic in the background and the intermittent click of a turn signal.
“Are you driving?” she asked.
“I pulled over.”
“I need somewhere to stay.”
Another silence.
“Is he there?”
“No.”
“Did he hurt you?”
“Yes.”
Noah inhaled slowly.
“How bad?”
“My hand is burned. I’m at St. Catherine’s.”
“I’m coming.”
“You live two hours away.”
“I know where I live.”
“I don’t want you driving angry.”
“I’m not angry.”
She almost smiled. Noah had never lied convincingly.
“You sound angry.”
“I sound like somebody whose sister hasn’t called him in three years and has now called from a hospital.”
“I know.”
“No. We’re not doing that part yet. Tell me what you need.”
“A place he won’t expect.”
“He knows where I live.”
“He thinks you hate me.”
“I do a little.”
“That might help.”
Noah made a sound that could have been a laugh.
“Are police involved?”
“Yes.”
“Is he arrested?”
“Yes.”
“Then come here.”
“I need you to understand that there may be reporters.”
“I live above a hardware store in a town where the newspaper prints pictures of oversized pumpkins.”
“They have internet in small towns.”
“Barely.”
She closed her eyes.
“I’m sorry.”
“I said we’re not doing that part yet.”
“I may bring a lawyer.”
“I have four chairs, and one is broken.”
Dana leaned close enough to speak toward the phone.
“I’ll stand.”
Noah said, “Who’s that?”
“My lawyer.”
“Of course you have a lawyer.”
“I’ve had one for four months.”
“Four months?”
“We’re not doing that part yet,” Elena said.
For the first time that day, Noah laughed.
It sounded unwilling and familiar.
He arrived after nine in an old pickup with one headlight brighter than the other. He wore work boots, jeans, and a faded blue shirt with the sleeves rolled unevenly. There were silver strands in his beard Elena had never seen before.
For a moment they looked at each other across the hospital room as though each had arrived to identify a body.
Then Noah crossed the room and hugged her.
He was careful of her bandaged hand.
Elena pressed her face against his shoulder. He smelled like sawdust and the peppermint gum he had chewed since high school.
“You got old,” she said.
“So did you.”
“You got more old.”
“You married money. I assumed it came with better insults.”
She gripped the back of his shirt.
His breathing changed.
“Is this the only injury?” he asked.
“Today?”
He pulled back.
She regretted the answer as soon as she saw his face.
“Noah.”
“Don’t.”
“Don’t what?”
“Don’t manage my reaction.”
“I’m not.”
“You started managing my reaction when we were children.”
“That was because you had terrible reactions.”
May you like
“I still do.”
Dana stood near the window, pretending to read an email.
