Chương 4
“The lender received notice that your personal guarantee was revoked.”
“And?”
“And they temporarily restricted further draws while they review the company’s financial position.”
“That fast?”
“You were the principal guarantor, Claire.”
People moved around me toward baggage claim.
I stepped beside a wall.
“I thought they had other assets.”
“They do.”
Naomi paused.
“They may not have as many as Richard represented.”
My stomach tightened.
“What does that mean?”
“It means your forensic accountant is looking again.”
“Looking at what?”
“The statements Richard provided when the guarantee was renewed last year.”
I leaned against the wall.
A cleaning cart rattled past.
“You think he lied.”
“I think there are discrepancies.”
“What kind?”
“I’m not giving you an answer before the accountant gives me one.”
“That is very lawyer of you.”
“It is also very friend of me.”
I rubbed my forehead.
“What about the transfer?”
“The bank’s internal review continues.”
“Can Madison be charged?”
“We are nowhere near that conversation.”
“She tried to take eight hundred thousand dollars.”
“We have evidence that a transfer was scheduled using compromised access credentials.”
“From her computer.”
“Yes.”
“And Richard’s administrator profile.”
“Yes.”
“That sounds pretty near the conversation.”
“Claire.”
Naomi’s voice softened.
“Being furious does not make the process faster.”
“I’m not furious.”
“You flew across the country with no luggage.”
“That was efficient.”
“You hate flying.”
“I still hate flying.”
“That’s my point.”
I looked through the terminal windows at the flat afternoon light over the runways.
“What am I supposed to do?”
“Tonight?”
“Yes.”
“Eat something.”
I almost objected.
Then I remembered the chicken salad sandwich still untouched in my purse.
Naomi continued, “Stay somewhere Richard can’t access.”
“I’m going to Tessa’s.”
“Good.”
“And tomorrow?”
“Tomorrow we start sorting facts from fear.”
I swallowed.
“What if the facts are worse?”
“They might be.”
She did not rush to comfort me.
That was one reason I trusted her.
“Then we deal with the facts we actually have.”
Tessa was waiting outside passenger pickup in an old blue Subaru with a cracked taillight and a cardboard sign pressed against the windshield.
The sign said CLAIRE HAS ESCAPED.
I stared at it through the glass.
She rolled down her window.
“Too soon?”
I laughed so hard I had to cover my face.
Tessa climbed out and hugged me before I could answer.
She smelled like peppermint gum and laundry detergent.
Her hair was shorter than the last time I had seen her, streaked with gray she had apparently decided not to fight.
“You have no suitcase,” she said.
“No.”
“That feels significant.”
“It wasn’t strategic.”
“Good.”
She opened the passenger door.
“I hate strategic suffering.”
We drove west in traffic.
For ten minutes she talked about completely ordinary things.
Her neighbor’s dog had eaten a glove.
Her daughter was considering dropping organic chemistry.
A pipe beneath the upstairs sink had developed what Tessa called “a moral objection to water containment.”
I knew what she was doing.
I loved her for not saying so.
Finally she glanced at me.
“You want to tell me?”
“Not yet.”
“Okay.”
Another mile passed.
“Richard?”
“Yes.”
“Is he alive?”
“Yes.”
“Are you?”
I turned toward the window.
“I think so.”
“That’ll do for tonight.”
At her house, I borrowed sweatpants from Tessa and stood in the guest bathroom staring at myself beneath a light that was much too bright.
My makeup had settled beneath my eyes.
There was a faint red mark on my wrist from the elastic band I had worn that morning while baking.
I had expected leaving a marriage to make me look different.
Instead I looked tired.
Tessa ordered Thai food.
Her husband, Miguel, arrived home from work, hugged me without asking questions, and immediately began arguing with a cabinet hinge in the kitchen.
Normal life surrounded me with almost offensive persistence.
Rice steamed in cardboard containers.
A baseball game played quietly on television.
Somebody’s washing machine thumped upstairs.
My marriage was collapsing, and Miguel could not find the correct screwdriver.
At eight sixteen, I turned airplane mode off.
The messages arrived again.
I ignored all of them except one.
It was from Madison.
Please answer me.
I stared at it.
Another message appeared beneath it.
Dad told me you knew about the transfer before today.
Then another.
He said you set me up.
I read the sentence twice because the first time my mind refused to give it meaning.
Tessa was rinsing containers at the sink, humming badly along with a commercial jingle.
Miguel had finally defeated the cabinet hinge and was now holding it up like a trophy.
I turned the phone facedown.
“Everything okay?” Tessa asked.
“No.”
She dried her hands.
“Do you want me to ask a better question?”
I looked at the phone again.
“No.”
She nodded and returned to the sink.
That was another thing Richard had always disliked about her.
Tessa could leave silence alone.
I picked up the phone and typed, What do you mean?
The reply came before I could reconsider sending it.
Dad says you knew someone had the codes and let the transfer go through so you could blame me.
My thumb hovered over the screen.
The transfer did not go through.
I deleted the sentence.
It sounded defensive.
I tried again.
What exactly did your father tell you?
Three dots appeared, disappeared, then appeared again.
He said you knew my laptop was logged in and waited because you wanted evidence against him.
I stopped breathing for a moment.
Against him.
Not against her.
That distinction mattered.
“Claire?”
Tessa had turned around now.
I held up one finger.
Madison sent another message.
He said you’ve been planning this for months because you wanted the company.
I laughed once.
Miguel looked toward me from the kitchen table.
“Bad funny or funny funny?”
“Bad.”
He nodded solemnly.
“Those are more common.”
I called Naomi.
She answered on the second ring.
“I told you not to discuss financial matters.”
“I didn’t.”
May you like
“Good.”
“Madison says Richard told her I set her up.”
