Page 126 of The Trust We Broke
Looming.
The knife Catfish loaned me sits sheathed and heavy in my coat pocket.
“You’re being ridiculous,” I mutter to myself, taking a deep breath. But I stand still, listening for anything that would give someone else’s presence away.
But there’s no noise. So, I push the door open. His office is at the back of the house, paneled in wood the color of expensive whiskey. The familiar scents of old leather and tobacco linger.
I take off my jacket and roll up the sleeves of my sweater and start with the most obvious place I can think of: my father’s desk. Apart from learning my father has an expensive pen habit, it’s an uneventful search, as there isn’t a false bottom in any of these drawers.
“Too obvious,” I mutter.
I look at all the books on the bookshelves. Pulling each one off to see if there is a key inside will take an age. My gut tells me it would be too obvious to have the same kind of hiding place, but one of the books on the second shelf looks a little out of place with the others.
I tap on the blue leather spine of a volume ofRestatements of Trust Law.
I pull it out, open it, and…nothing.
Of course, it wasn’t going to be that easy.
So, I have no choice. I need to start at one corner of the room and be meticulous in checking everything.
“I brought some chocolate chip cookies too,” Mom says when she arrives with a tray.
“Thanks,” I say, climbing to my feet. The coffee is hot, and, at some point, I’m going to need something more nutritious than baked goods to eat. But I take a cookie anyway.
“There’s a safe,” Mom says, opening one of the low cupboards I hadn’t checked yet. “Your father thinks I don’t know about it. But I saw him tuck something in it, once.” She pulls out the contents of the cupboard, then wiggles something around before removing a false back. “There.”
She enters a code, and the safe beeps. “You know the code?” I ask.
“Your father is a rather predictable creature of habit, in many ways. The house alarm, his pin code for the bank, the password for his laptop and phone. It’s the same four numbers repeated once or twice. He always complained about howmodern passwords need something akin to hieroglyphics to pass muster.” She hands me another stack of notebooksandan old laptop. “Is this what you were looking for?”
I swallow deeply, trying to bite back tears of relief as I run my fingers over the black leather of the notebooks.
“Lucy?”
“Yeah, Mom?”
She places her hands on her knees. “What’s going to happen? To me?” She gestures around the room. “To all of this?”
“Dad is going to be convicted of fraud, bribery, and other related financial crimes. If I was his prosecutor, I’d seek to freeze and seize assets I believed to be linked to the criminal activity. They’ll focus on whether the asset came from an illegal source of money. This home was inherited by Dad from his grandparents, so, likely, it could be argued you should be able to keep your share as a joint asset. It’s going to be complicated and take time.”
Mom sighs. “Can I do anything before he’s charged?”
I shake my head. “Better to keep your status as an innocent spouse. But we’ll figure it out, Mom. I have savings. You won’t end up homeless. Hell, you can live here until they say you can’t.”
My phone rings, making both of us jump. Catfish’s name appears on my screen. He gave me his number while we were at the police station.
“Hey, Catfish. What did you find?” I ask when I answer.
“You need to get the fuck out of there or find a weapon and hide. Two men are attempting to get in the rear.”
I run to the window, keeping behind the lush curtains, and peer cautiously out. “Shit, I see them.” They’re dressed in black, their heads are down.
My pulse pounds so hard, I can feel the stitches in my temple pull.
“The club are heading to your location,” Catfish says. “But, Lucy, you better fucking hide.”
“Grudge?” I ask, shoving the stack in my hand to my mother and gesturing for her to lock it back up in the safe.
