Grandpa’s money. The account he left me for college.
The room tilted a little. I held the baby closer. “Your father told me he moved it to a CD,” I whispered. “For safekeeping.”
“He drained it.”
Part Four: What Was in the Folder
Piper set a manila folder between us. Inside: statements, screenshots. She pulled a small recorder from her pocket.
“I found out by accident,” she said. “A statement came to the house while you were away on one of your trips. I opened it. Confronted him.”
“And he—”
“He didn’t flinch, Mom. He said he’d call your boss, that he golfs with someone on your firm’s board, could make one phone call and end your career. Said he’d take the house because his name’s on it. Said you’d end up sleeping in your car, and he’d make sure I knew it was because of me.”
He’d make sure I knew it was because of me.
“Oh, God—”
“He handed me eight hundred dollars in cash and told me to disappear before you got home.”
I stared at the baby’s soft, dark hair. Couldn’t look at my daughter directly. “You left to protect me?”
“Because I believed him.”
She pressed play on the recorder. Dalton’s voice came out of it, calm the way he always was, telling my teenage daughter exactly what he’d do to me if she ever opened her mouth. I let it play to the end.
