Chapter 7 - Someone Was Building a Case
Dana told us not to confront the person in the SUV.
Instead, I photographed the license plate from upstairs.
The vehicle left twelve minutes later.
The next morning, another car appeared.
Then another.
Different drivers.
Same behavior.
They took pictures when I carried Maisie outside.
They took pictures when Tessa left for coffee.
They took pictures when a grocery delivery arrived.
By afternoon, Dana had an answer.
“Private investigator.”
“Margaret hired one?”
“Likely.”
“For what?”
“To document your behavior.”
“I’m making oatmeal and watching cartoons.”
“Then keep making oatmeal and watching cartoons.”
I almost smiled.
Dana did not.
“Do not give them anything useful.”
At 2:30, Evan showed up.
I watched him through the door camera.
He looked terrible.
Unshaven.
Wrinkled shirt.
No coat.
“Rachel.”
I opened the door but left the chain attached.
“What?”
“I need to see Maisie.”
“She’s napping.”
“I’m her father.”
“And I haven’t stopped you from being her father.”
“You left.”
“After your mother hit her.”
He looked toward the street.
Then he lowered his voice.
“Mom hired people.”
“I know.”
“She says it’s to protect the family.”
“From me?”
“She thinks you’re going to use the video publicly.”
“I haven’t posted anything.”
“Tessa might.”
“That’s Tessa’s choice.”
His face tightened.
“Do you understand what this could do to Mom?”
I stared at him.
Then I almost laughed.
“Your daughter was slapped in front of a room full of people.”
“And you’re asking what this could do to Margaret?”
“That isn’t what I mean.”
“It’s exactly what you mean.”
He rubbed his forehead.
“Mom has connections.”
I went still.
“What kind of connections?”
“School board.”
“Former school board.”
“Donors.”
“To what?”
“Judicial campaigns.”
I felt something cold settle inside me.
“Are you threatening me?”
“No.”
“I’m warning you.”
“About your mother?”
“I’m trying to tell you she won’t stop because you think the facts are obvious.”
His voice cracked.
“She never stops.”
There it was.
Not a defense.
A confession.
I looked at him through the narrow opening.
“Then help me stop her.”
He stared back.
“I can’t.”
“Why?”
“You don’t understand what she controls.”
“Your house?”
“Yes.”
“Your company?”
“Yes.”
“Your money?”
He looked away.
“What else?”
He whispered, “My father’s trust.”
I remembered the will.
“What trust?”
“He had an insurance trust.”
“How much?”
Evan swallowed.
“Almost three million.”
“And Margaret controls it?”
“She controls distributions until I turn thirty-five.”
“You’re thirty-four.”
“My birthday is in eleven weeks.”
My thoughts aligned instantly.
Margaret needed him obedient for eleven more weeks.
After that, control changed.
Unless something else happened first.
“Does the trust say anything about divorce?”
Evan’s face drained of color.
That was all I needed.
“What?”
“Evan.”
He looked over his shoulder toward the investigator’s car.
Then he whispered, “If I’m found financially irresponsible, legally incapacitated, or involved in conduct that damages the family estate, the trustee can extend control.”
“Who is the trustee?”
He answered with two words.
“Gerald Knox.”
Margaret’s lawyer.
The same man filing against me.
The same man who had handled Evan’s father’s estate.
For the first time, I wondered whether Margaret’s war against me had anything to do with love for Maisie.
May you like
Or whether Maisie was simply the latest piece on a board that had been arranged years before I entered the family.
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