Owen rose. ‘Mara, you are confused.’
‘No. I was confused when I thought grief had made me suspicious. I was confused when I believed you lost sleep because you loved me. I was confused when I thought your mother hated me because I was not good enough for you.’
Her fingers closed around the recorder beneath the blanket.
‘But now I understand,’ she said. ‘She hated me because I knew how to read a ledger.’
Ruth’s face hardened. ‘You arrogant little—’
The side gate buzzer rang.
All three of them froze.
It rang again.
Then a fist pounded against metal beyond the patio.
Owen turned toward the sound, suddenly pale.
Ruth whispered, ‘Who is that?’
Mara looked at her husband. ‘Maybe you should answer it.’
The buzzer rang a third time.
Then a man’s voice carried through the sleet. ‘Mara? It is Daniel Reeves. I know you are there.’
Owen’s face drained of all remaining color.
Daniel Reeves had been Mara’s father’s closest friend, a retired judge with a voice that could make a courtroom sit straighter. He was also the person Mara had called three weeks earlier after finding the first forged signature.
More importantly, he was the person she had scheduled an automatic file transfer to.
If she did not cancel it by six that evening, everything she had gathered would go to Daniel.
It was now past six.
Ruth looked from Owen to Mara. ‘What did you do?’
Mara pressed the recorder button beneath the blanket. The tiny red light blinked between her fingers.
‘I stopped trusting convenient people.’
Owen lunged.
He moved faster than she expected, grabbing for her hand. Mara rolled slightly, and the pain struck so brutally that stars burst behind her eyes. His fingers closed around the blanket, yanking it away.
The recorder slid across the concrete.
Ruth saw it.
So did Owen.
For one breath, no one moved.
Then Ruth went for it.
Mara did the only thing she could. She kicked the folder with her good foot. Papers flew across the floor, slick white sheets scattering under Ruth’s shoes. Ruth slipped, caught herself on the wicker trunk, and cursed.
Owen snatched the recorder first.
Relief flooded his face.
Then Mara said, ‘That is not the only copy.’
The pounding at the gate grew louder.
‘Open this gate,’ Daniel Reeves called. ‘Police are on their way.’
Ruth turned on Owen. ‘You said she had no one.’
Owen’s mouth opened, but no answer came.
Mara looked at the phone in his hand. ‘You should check my messages.’
He did not want to. She could see it. But panic made him stupid. He tapped the screen. His thumb froze.
Even from the floor, Mara saw the notification banners.
Daniel Reeves: Received the files.
Dr. Patel: Your missed home-care confirmation was reported.
Unknown number: This is Harbor County Dispatch. Officers are en route.
Ruth stepped backward as if the phone had burned her.
‘No,’ she said. ‘No, this is nothing. It is family business.’
Mara laughed once, low and broken. ‘You locked an injured woman in an unheated pool house and tried to force her to sign corporate control documents.’
Owen whispered, ‘Mara, please.’
That word again.
Please.
Now he had found it.
The gate clanged open outside.
Mara turned her face toward the door.
