Chapter 10 - The Envelope at St. Agnes
Greta stared at us through her phone screen. "Rebecca gave me a packet, yes. She said if anything happened, I should get it to an attorney."
"Why didn't you tell us?" I asked.
"Because I already gave it to one. Three weeks ago."
Sonia asked for the name. Greta said it quietly: Malcolm Vane.
Nobody spoke for a second. The judge who'd signed Mom's fake death filing had received the very papers she was trying to protect.
"I checked his bar registration," Greta said. "He advertised pro bono disaster work. I didn't know."
"You couldn't have," Sonia replied. "But we need the receipt."
Greta found an email confirming the handoff. The receipt listed thirty-two pages, a sealed photo envelope, and a small drive labeled ORIGINALS. Judge Vane had signed for them personally.
Elias swore beneath his breath. "Then Harlan knows how much Rebecca had."
Luz opened an online map of county property. The old records archive at storage bay 214 belonged to a shell company purchased after the flood. Its listed manager was Vane's cousin. It was the same company that had acquired fifteen condemned houses for a dollar apiece.
"A judge, a commissioner, a deputy," Luz said. "They're using every door people are trained to trust."
I pictured Mom's face when she'd learned that families were sleeping in cars while relief checks vanished. She'd come home and fixed our leaking sink even though she could barely stand. Sonia's temporary-placement coordinator arrived that afternoon. Her name was Camille Reed. She wore comfortable shoes and asked me about school, whether I had any relatives who were safe, and what Milo needed to sleep. When I said I wanted to stay with Elias, she asked why. I told her about the bottle, the tunnel, and the time he'd admitted he was scared.
"We'll check his background and your safety," she said. "I won't promise what I can't control."
That evening Elias was allowed to visit us at the supervised residence while the review continued. He brought clean clothes, apples, and a stuffed fox with one ear bent sideways.
"I wanted to get Milo a proper toy," he said. "But the fox looked like it had survived something."
For the first time in four days, I laughed.
May you like
His phone vibrated. It was a live video from an unknown sender. On the screen, my mother was standing in a dark warehouse. A man behind her pushed a contract toward her hands.
Then she looked directly into the camera and said, "June, don't trust Elias."
