Page 47 of Nothing Ever Happens Here

“I’m sorry to dump that all on you. You didn’t sign up for this,” I laugh humorlessly.

“It’s hard to believe. I mean, all of it is, I guess—he was the nicest guy. It’s just never added up,” he says. I lean over to pick up the wine bottle on the coffee table, filling both of our glasses.

“A nice guy who I recently found out has been stealing money from the Oleander’s.”

“I’m sorry, what?” he says, and again, I don’t know why I feel the need to vomit out all of this information, but I want to be free from the burden of it. I just need someone to talk to, so I keep spilling.

“I’ve had a lot happen at once, so that one was just a bullet item on my list of things to dig into,” I continue. “But then I found his missing work bag yesterday, and there was more evidence that he is stealing. I found out about some of it recently, but it gets even better… and it looks like he takes a percentage of everyone’s Medicare and Medicaid that gets filtered through a bank I’d never heard of till I found the paperwork…after some gets taken out, the rest is deposited to the Oleander’s.”

“You’re kidding.”

“I wanted to be certain before I brought this up to Shelby because I thought…”

“She could be in on it,” he finishes.

“What? No. No! That’s…”

“Oh, sorry,” he says quickly, cutting the air with his palm—a “forget I said that” gesture.

“The Oleander’s is going under. She’d never let that happen. No way. I just thought… What if someone knows about this?What if someone knows money is being stolen over years and they’re fucking pissed and they think she is a part of it?”

“So you mean, what if Leo was a victim, and now Shelby is in serious danger for the same reason—they’re thieves together.”

“I don’t know. I mean, that’s a thought, yes. Someone thinks they are working together profiting off the elderly. I don’t know. Maybe that’s way off track, but I’m just trying to make sense of anything that has an ounce of sense to it.”

“I know,” he agrees. “It’s all so out there. It’s hard to know what to think. I had no idea about Leo.”

“But you did hear that he gambled, right?”

“Like you said, I heard ‘COVID got him drinking and gambling a bit more, but who could blame him?’ sort of talk—I never heard any of the things you’re telling me.”

“I don’t know who knows what anymore. Maybe because I don’t really know a goddamn thing myself. The money he’s taking off the top from the Oleander’s checks—it was all carefully and fraudulently crafted so nobody would catch on, and now it’s just on an automated system—” I say, but then he interrupts.

“Wait,” Billy puts his wine down and shifts his body to face me square on. “You’re saying there is still money going into an account that he has access to?”

I nod.

“Holy shit!”

“Yeah,” I say, and I know what he’s thinking. That this is evidence clear as day that Leo is alive, and not a victim. A minute ago he wasmaybea victim along with Shelby, and now he’s definitely an active criminal. And I know it’s a roller coaster, but I think the truth lives somewhere in the middle, despite what it looks like when you sum it up like that.

“And the police can’t track him through that account?” he asks. Then he must read the look on my face and his expression shifts. “Oh,” he says.

“I’m gonna tell them. It’s just…between the phone and finding out about an active bank account, I just—I wanted to try to find him myself instead of giving it to Riley and being told to stay out of the way and just wait. No way.”

“I guess,” he says, and I can’t tell if there is a tone of judgment underneath his words.

“I’ve hit the end of the road, obviously, so I guess I have nothing to lose by turning this stuff over to the police now. Tomorrow,” I say. He picks up his wine, runs his hand through his hair and leans back on the couch. I copy him. We stare at the ceiling and listen to the fire crackle for a few minutes.

“What can I do to help you? Do you need a place to stay or anything? I mean, where will you go?” he asks softly.

I sigh. “That’s very nice of you, but I’m less worried about me. I’ll sleep in a booth in the cafe if I need to. At least that place is still mine. My main concern is Rowan and how to figure something out before she gets out of school for the summer. I thought about selling the cafe, but then I pay the back taxes—all the debt on the house and have no business. It doesn’t make sense. It’s not like I have no income. I just don’t have that kind of money lying around, not since Leo…” I stop and restart, more calmly. “Maybe I stay at the cafe for a while and find an apartment after I save up…” I’m rambling now, I know it, but it’s nice to just think out loud and verbalize everything that’s been boiling over inside of me.

“Let me help. Let me give it to you,” he says, and I almost spit out the sip of wine in my mouth, but I collect myself and sit up, turning to him with my mouth hanging open.

“You’re nuts. No way. I mean that’s very kind of you to offer that, but I couldn’t possibly.”

“Why not?” he asks, brows raised.

---