Chương 4
“When?”
“Three weeks ago.”
Sarah waited.
Richard stared at the sidewalk.
“She got angry.”
Sarah laughed once, without amusement.
“That convinced you?”
“No.”
“What did?”
He looked toward the house.
“Nothing.”
She felt the answer before he said more.
Nothing had convinced him.
That had not been the requirement.
Margaret’s certainty had been enough.
It always had been.
Richard pressed his lips together.
“She said you’d signed electronically through an attorney.”
“What attorney?”
“I don’t know.”
“Name.”
“I don’t know.”
“Firm?”
“I don’t know.”
“Email?”
“Sarah.”
She took one step closer.
“Do you understand that your not knowing is becoming an answer?”
Richard looked at her then.
For a moment she saw real fear.
Not fear of Margaret.
Fear of himself.
“I signed as a witness.”
Sarah stopped.
The air seemed to narrow around them.
“You witnessed my signature.”
Richard nodded once.
“You watched me sign?”
“No.”
“But you signed a statement saying you did.”
He covered his mouth with one hand.
Sarah looked toward Brooks.
He was speaking with the other officer near a cruiser, giving them distance but not privacy.
“You called the police because you knew.”
Richard shook his head.
“I called because I found another set of papers.”
“What papers?”
He hesitated.
Sarah almost shouted.
Instead she lowered her voice.
“What papers?”
“In Margaret’s desk.”
“Today?”
“Yes.”
“Why were you in her desk?”
“She asked me for the checkbook.”
Sarah waited.
Richard gave a helpless shrug.
“The drawer stuck.”
It was such an ordinary explanation that she nearly did not believe it.
But she knew that desk. The top right drawer had stuck since the Clinton administration. Richard had once promised to sand the runner and never had.
He continued.
“I pulled too hard. The drawer came out. There was an envelope behind it.”
“What was in the envelope?”
He looked toward the house again.
“Copies.”
“Of what?”
“Your signature. Different versions.”
Sarah’s skin went cold.
Richard’s voice grew smaller.
“And a note with dates.”
“What dates?”
“I don’t know.”
“You saw them.”
“I didn’t understand them.”
“You remember something.”
He rubbed his thumb against his finger.
“One was when you were in Germany.”
Sarah said nothing.
“And another was March seventeenth.”
She remembered March seventeenth.
Kuwait.
A briefing room without windows.
Coffee that tasted burned no matter who made it.
She had called home that night because it was Richard’s birthday.
Margaret had complained Sarah sounded distracted.
Sarah looked at her father.
“Where is the envelope?”
“In the house.”
“Show Brooks.”
Richard remained still.
“Dad.”
“I will.”
“No. You will do it now.”
He looked at her for a long second.
Then he nodded.
The envelope was exactly where Richard said it was.
Brooks did not let anyone touch it until another officer arrived with evidence bags and a camera. Sarah stood in the living room while they documented the desk.
The room had barely changed since her last Christmas there.
Same cream sofa.
Same brass lamp.
Same glass bowl filled with decorative wooden balls Sarah had always hated.
A newer television hung on the wall.
On the mantel sat Sarah’s West Point graduation photograph next to a picture of Margaret accepting an award from the local historical society.
Richard lowered himself into a chair.
He looked sick.
Brooks stood nearby.
“Mr. Whitmore, I need you to understand something. You’re now telling me you signed as a witness to a signature you did not actually witness.”
Richard nodded.
Brooks waited.
Richard seemed to expect reassurance.
None came.
“Depending on what was filed, there may be criminal exposure for you.”
Richard looked at Sarah.
She hated him for that look.
Not because he wanted help.
Because some part of him still believed she might step between him and consequence.
Sarah walked into the kitchen.
The coffeemaker clock blinked 12:00.
Of course it did.
Richard refused to set appliance clocks after power outages. Margaret complained about it every time.
Sarah opened the refrigerator because she did not know what else to do.
Inside was almond milk, eggs, two containers of yogurt, a bottle of white wine, leftover chicken, and a plastic tub labeled POTATO SALAD in Margaret’s handwriting.
Sarah stared at it.
Then she closed the door.
Brooks appeared in the kitchen entrance.
“You okay?”
“No.”
He nodded.
Again, she appreciated that he did not contradict her.
“Do you have someone you can call?”
“Yes.”
“You don’t have to stay for every part of this.”
Sarah looked past him toward her father.
“I think I do.”
Brooks glanced back.
“Maybe.”
“You disagree?”
“I think people in shock confuse information with control.”
Sarah looked at him.
“That from police training?”
“No. Divorce.”
Despite herself, Sarah gave a brief laugh.
Brooks smiled once.
Then his face became serious again.
“You’re a witness and potential victim. Your father may be a witness, participant, or both. Your mother may be involved. There may be others. We don’t know yet.”
Sarah nodded.
“I won’t interfere.”
“I wasn’t worried about interference.”
“What were you worried about?”
“You trying to become the person in charge because everyone else failed.”
She looked at him.
Brooks raised his hands slightly.
“I’ve met officers before.”
“Military.”
“Same disease. Different uniforms.”
Sarah leaned against the counter carefully, avoiding pressure on her shoulder.
“I’m not trying to take over.”
“Good.”
“I’m trying to understand whether my parents stole part of their own house from me.”
Brooks considered that.
“That sounds like taking over.”
She looked down.
After a moment, he said, “The detectives will handle the document side. Today, you need medical care, a safe place to sleep, and probably someone who isn’t your father.”
“I have a friend in Arlington.”
“Call them.”
Sarah nodded.
Brooks started to leave.
“Officer.”
He turned.
“Did my father know enough to be arrested?”
Brooks’s expression remained neutral.
“I’m not going to answer that before investigators make that decision.”
Sarah nodded.
He paused.
“But I wouldn’t assume calling us erases what he did before the call.”
“I wasn’t.”
May you like
Brooks left.
Sarah took out her phone.
