Chương 12
Rachel watched them.
“Daniel says I apologize to end conversations,” she said.
“Sometimes you do.”
“He says I learned it from Mom.”
“You did.”
“You don’t have to agree that quickly.”
“You brought it up.”
Rachel stirred her coffee. “Do you hate me?”
Mitchell looked through the window at a city bus lowering its ramp for an elderly passenger.
“No.”
“Do you forgive me?”
“No.”
Rachel nodded.
The answer seemed to relieve her.
“Thank you,” she said.
“For what?”
“Not making it prettier.”
Robert pleaded guilty first.
His agreement required him to admit that he knowingly forged Mitchell’s signature and used the false power of attorney to complete the sale. He agreed to cooperate against Rusk and to surrender his interest in assets purchased with the proceeds.
In exchange, prosecutors recommended a sentence below the advisory guideline range, citing his age, lack of prior criminal history, health, and cooperation.
Elaine refused the offer presented to her.
She insisted Mitchell had verbally granted the family authority years earlier. She claimed the written notice concerned only temporary access. She said Rusk deceived her about the property’s status and that her messages had been taken out of context.
Then she gave a television interview.
Mitchell watched it alone after promising herself she would not.
Elaine sat in a cream chair beside her attorney, wearing a navy dress and the pearl necklace from the reunion. Her voice was measured. Her hair was perfect.
“My daughter has dedicated her life to government service,” she said. “We were proud of her, even when that service required secrecy and distance. Unfortunately, those same habits of secrecy created confusion inside our family.”
The interviewer asked whether she had forged Mitchell’s signature.
Elaine looked wounded.
“I relied on my husband and professional advisers for documents.”
Robert’s plea had not yet become public.
Mitchell turned off the television.
Three minutes later, Robert called.
She let it ring.
He called again.
On the third call, she answered.
“You saw it,” he said.
“Yes.”
“I didn’t know she was doing the interview.”
“Did you know she planned to blame you?”
Silence.
Mitchell sat on the edge of her couch.
“Dad.”
“She is frightened.”
“So are you.”
“Yes.”
The directness surprised her.
Robert’s breathing sounded rough. He had developed a persistent cough that doctors attributed to reflux, though Elaine told relatives it was stress.
“I signed the plea,” he said.
“I know.”
“How?”
“My attorney was notified as the victim’s counsel.”
“You have a lawyer?”
“For restitution and property matters.”
“I didn’t think you needed one.”
“You didn’t think I needed a house.”
He exhaled.
“That was unfair.”
“No. It was impolite.”
Another silence.
“Your mother believes you will testify,” he said.
“I will comply with a subpoena.”
“She wants to speak to you before then.”
“No.”
“She says there are things you don’t understand.”
“She can tell her attorney.”
“She says attorneys turn everything into evidence.”
“That is one of their functions.”
Robert coughed.
Mitchell waited until he stopped.
“Did you know what Rusk wanted?” she asked.
“Not at first.”
“When did you know?”
“I never knew exactly.”
“When did you suspect?”
He did not answer.
“Dad.”
“At the house.”
“May third.”
“Yes.”
“What happened?”
“He went downstairs too quickly. He knew where he was going.”
“You let him continue.”
“Your mother said we had come too far.”
“And what did you say?”
“I said we should leave.”
“Did you leave?”
“No.”
The word was quiet.
“Why not?”
Robert’s voice changed. It became smaller, but not less responsible.
“Because I had signed the document. Because the money had become real in my head. The mortgage, Rachel’s wedding, your mother talking about finally not worrying. I thought if I stopped it then, I would lose everything and still have to tell you what I had done.”
“So you kept going.”
“Yes.”
“You photographed him.”
“I thought if he tried to cheat us, I would have proof.”
Mitchell looked at the blank television screen.
“You were protecting yourself from the man you helped enter my house.”
“Yes.”
“Did you see the card with Greystone written on it?”
“No.”
“Did you hear the name?”
Robert hesitated.
“He asked if it was a person or an operation.”
Mitchell’s back straightened.
“Who did he ask?”
“Your mother.”
“What did she say?”
“She said she didn’t know.”
“Where did the word come from?”
“There was a label inside the cabinet.”
“The cabinet was supposed to be empty.”
“It was. Just adhesive. A piece of tape with writing.”
Mitchell closed her eyes.
“Did you remove it?”
“Evan did.”
“Did you tell investigators?”
“I told my lawyer.”
“When?”
“Yesterday.”
Six weeks after the seizure.
Mitchell stood.
“You waited.”
“I was afraid.”
“A protected person may have been at risk.”
“I didn’t know what the word meant.”
“Rusk asked whether it was a person.”
“I know.”
“You knew enough.”
“I know.”
His repetition sounded like Rachel’s, but heavier, worn by age and fewer illusions.
Mitchell walked to the window.
“Why are you telling me now?”
“Because I’m going to testify.”
“That is required by your plea.”
“I’m going to tell them everything.”
“That is also required.”
“I know you don’t believe me.”
“This is not about belief.”
“It is for me.”
Mitchell watched a man across the street drag a trash bin back toward his townhouse. One wheel stuck every few feet. He kicked it, dragged again, kicked again.
Robert said, “I thought being your father meant you would eventually understand why I did it.”
“No.”
“I know.”
“You keep saying that.”
“I’m practicing.”
She closed her eyes.
May you like
At trial, Elaine’s defense was not that the sale had been proper. The documents made that impossible. Her defense was that she had been deceived about the federal significance of the property and lacked the criminal intent required for the most serious counts.
Her attorney portrayed Rusk as a sophisticated fraudster, Robert as the forger, Rachel as a financially desperate daughter, and Mitchell as an emotionally distant federal officer whose ambiguous statements created family confusion.
