Chapter 9 - It Caught Up With Her Anyway
Diane had gone to her sister's — my Aunt Paula — about forty minutes outside the city. She'd taken a cab before dawn.
Paula called me at nine thirty, her voice unsure. "Daniel, your mother's here. She says there's been a terrible misunderstanding. She's very upset."
"There's no misunderstanding, Aunt Paula," I said. "There's an attorney at my house right now with five years of financial records. I need to know she's going to stay put."
A long pause. "Daniel — she's your mother."
"I know who she is."
Another pause. Then, quiet: "She told me Cora forced her out. That Cora turned you against her."
"Cora spent two years sleeping in a shed behind my garage," I said. "She kept records the whole time because it was the only way to protect herself. My mother threatened her in writing to keep her from reaching me."
Silence on the line.
"I didn't know that," Paula said.
"I know you didn't. I need her to stay there, Aunt Paula. I'm not asking you to pick a side. I'm asking you to make sure she doesn't vanish."
"She's not going anywhere," Paula said. Her voice had changed. "I'll see to it."
Ellison made two calls that morning. The first was to a contact in the district attorney's financial crimes unit — not a formal report yet, a conversation. The second was to the developer who'd bought the east parcel, asking for the transaction paperwork and the name of whoever signed it.
The developer's office called back within the hour. The documents listed Diane acting under a household management authorization. But there was a second signature on the transfer deed — a witness.
The name on it was Sabrina's.
I carried the fax into the kitchen where Cora was sitting. Danny had gone out to play in the yard — the real yard, the one he'd apparently been kept off of for years. I could see him through the window, running in circles for no reason except that he could.
I put the page on the table. Cora read it. She looked up.
"She knew," Cora said.
"She witnessed the signature. That's different from knowing the whole picture. But she was standing there."
Cora sat with that. "What happens to her?"
"Depends what she does next. The voluntary statement this morning helps her. This—" I tapped the fax. "This changes where she stands."
Cora looked out at Danny. "He asked me this morning if Grandma was coming back."
I sat down across from her. "What'd you tell him?"
"That Grandma had some things to go straighten out." A pause. "He said okay and went back to his eggs." She looked at me. "He's five. He shouldn't have any of this in his head."
"He won't," I said. "Not anymore."
Cora looked at the fax again, then folded her hands on the table.
"Daniel. I need to ask you something."
"Ask."
"When this is over — the legal part, all of it — I need us to leave this house."
I looked at her.
"I can't live here," she said. "I've tried. Five years I tried to make it feel like home. But every room in this place has something attached to it I can't get past." She held my eyes. "I know you built it. I know what it cost you. But I need somewhere new. Ours. Somewhere that's never been anything but ours."
I reached across and put my hand over hers. "We'll sell it," I said. "Every brick."
Her shoulders dropped, just slightly. The way shoulders drop when something you've been carrying a long time finally goes down.
"Okay," she said.
My phone rang. Ellison.
"The financial crimes unit wants to open a formal file," he said. "They need your authorization. And Daniel — they've already turned up two more accounts your mother didn't list last night. The total's a good deal higher than two hundred and ninety thousand."
May you like
I looked at Cora.
"Authorize it," I said.
