Chương 9
Sarah looked back down.
Morales was right.
Sarah hated that too.
“Did my father know?”
“He says yes.”
The room went very still.
“He knew why Grandma gave me the share.”
Morales nodded.
“And he signed a false witness statement anyway.”
“He says he believed you had separately agreed to the transfer.”
Sarah laughed softly.
Morales did not react.
“Did he explain how he could believe that while knowing Grandma put the protection there specifically because Mom might pressure him?”
“You’ll have to ask him.”
Sarah pushed the paper away.
“I don’t think I want to.”
Morales closed the file.
“There’s something else.”
Of course there was.
“Your father says he gave your mother copies of your previous signed powers of attorney and deployment paperwork when she said the attorney needed identity verification.”
Sarah stared.
“When?”
“Approximately six weeks ago.”
“My signature samples.”
Morales said nothing.
Sarah felt the anger arrive slowly.
Not hot.
Dense.
“He gave them to her.”
“That is what he reported.”
Sarah looked at the wall.
Richard had not merely looked away.
He had supplied the pen, metaphorically if not literally.
“Did he know why?”
“He says no.”
Sarah’s laugh came out louder this time.
Morales waited.
Sarah pressed her fingertips into her temples.
“Sorry.”
“No need.”
“There is a need. I’m sitting here trying to make you tell me whether my father is innocent enough for me to still love him.”
Morales’s expression softened slightly.
“I can’t answer that.”
“I know.”
“And police investigations are bad places to get moral clarity.”
Sarah looked at her.
“That from police training?”
Morales smiled.
“No. Catholic school.”
Sarah almost laughed.
Outside the station, Sarah found Richard sitting on a bench.
He stood when he saw her.
She stopped.
For a second neither moved.
He looked exhausted. His sweater had been replaced by an old button-down shirt that was wrinkled at the collar.
“Your mother changed the locks.”
Sarah stared.
“What?”
“When I went home after the interview. My key didn’t work.”
“Can she do that?”
“I don’t know.”
“Where are you staying?”
“A motel.”
“What happened this morning?”
Richard looked toward the parking lot.
“I told her I was going to cooperate.”
“And?”
“She said if I walked out, not to come back.”
Sarah folded her arms.
Her shoulder hurt.
She lowered them.
“You walked out.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Richard looked at her.
“For once, I suppose.”
She said nothing.
He rubbed his thumb against his finger.
“I know that doesn’t fix anything.”
“No.”
“I know calling the police doesn’t fix what I did.”
“No.”
“I know giving her those papers was—”
Sarah’s face tightened.
“You knew I found out.”
He nodded.
“You knew I found out yesterday.”
“Yes.”
“And you waited until the detective told me today to let me learn you gave Mom my signature samples.”
Richard lowered his eyes.
“I was ashamed.”
Sarah took a step back.
He looked up quickly.
“I told them.”
“You didn’t tell me.”
“I thought they would.”
“Why would you think that?”
“I don’t know.”
“Yes, you do.”
Richard stared at the pavement.
Sarah felt herself becoming cruel and stopped.
A bus pulled along the street beyond the parking lot.
Someone nearby dropped a set of keys.
Normal sounds.
Sarah breathed.
“Did you know Grandma gave me the share because she didn’t trust Mom financially?”
“Yes.”
“When did you learn that?”
“When the trust was created.”
“You never told me.”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Your grandmother asked me not to involve you in their disagreements.”
Sarah stared at him.
“I was twenty-six.”
“I know.”
“I was already an Army officer.”
“I know.”
“You all decided I was somehow too young to know why I owned part of a house.”
Richard looked miserable.
“Your mother was furious.”
“That is not an answer.”
“It is the answer to almost everything.”
The honesty stopped Sarah.
Richard seemed surprised by his own words.
He sat back on the bench.
Sarah remained standing.
After a moment he said, “Your mother and my mother hated each other.”
“I noticed.”
“She thought Margaret spent too much. Margaret thought she was controlling. They were both right.”
Sarah sat at the far end of the bench.
Richard looked ahead.
“My mother gave you the share because I had taken money from an investment account to cover debts Margaret didn’t want her to know about.”
Sarah turned.
“What debts?”
“Credit cards. A kitchen renovation. Your mother’s business.”
“What business?”
Richard gave a tired smile.
“You don’t remember the antique shop?”
Sarah did.
It had lasted nine months.
Margaret called it a partnership. Sarah remembered a storefront filled with expensive lamps nobody bought.
“That was twenty years ago.”
“Yes.”
“And Grandma thought Mom would do it again.”
“She thought I would let her.”
That mattered.
Sarah looked at her father.
For the first time he was not describing Margaret as the dangerous person and himself as the object she acted upon.
He was including himself.
“What happened to the debt?”
“My mother paid part of it. I paid the rest.”
“Did Mom know Grandma knew?”
“Eventually.”
“And she blamed you.”
“Yes.”
Sarah looked away.
“Did she ever forgive you?”
Richard considered it.
“No.”
“Did you forgive yourself?”
He gave a small, strange laugh.
“I solved that by never asking.”
They sat quietly.
Then Sarah said, “Where’s Mom?”
“Home.”
“Has she spoken to Stephen?”
“I don’t know.”
“Do you still have access to your accounts?”
Richard looked embarrassed.
“I checked.”
“And?”
“The joint checking account is nearly empty.”
Sarah closed her eyes.
“How much?”
“Forty-two thousand was there last week.”
“And now?”
“Seven hundred.”
Sarah stood.
“Did you tell Morales?”
“Yes.”
“When did the money move?”
“This morning.”
Sarah looked toward the station entrance.
Richard said, “She knows.”
Sarah stopped.
Good.
He had told them before she asked.
The difference was small.
But she noticed.
Over the next three days, the situation widened.
Margaret hired an attorney and stopped speaking voluntarily to police.
May you like
Stephen disappeared from the address associated with his company.
The lender froze further activity on the loan but began its own investigation.
