Chapter 4 - The Woman With My Mother's Keys
Dad took the stairs two at a time.
I followed anyway.
Veronica was pulling clothes from the walk-in closet and throwing them into a suitcase.
Madison sat on the bed with an ice pack against her cheek, glaring at the wall.
Dad held up the letter.
“Explain this.”
Veronica barely glanced at it.
“My attorney told me not to discuss financial matters while people are emotional.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“It’s the only one you’re getting tonight.”
“You signed for Claire’s trust notices.”
“I handle the household mail.”
“You opened them.”
“No proof of that.”
“The envelope was already opened.”
She zipped the suitcase.
“So?”
Dad stared at her.
“Where is the money?”
That made Madison look up.
Veronica finally stopped moving.
“What money?”
“Claire’s education distribution.”
“I never touched her money.”
“Then why was her account blocked?”
“It wasn’t blocked.”
I stepped into the doorway.
“You told me it was.”
Veronica’s eyes flashed.
“I told you the family was reviewing unnecessary expenses.”
“My tuition is unnecessary?”
“You changed majors twice.”
“Once.”
“Close enough.”
Dad’s voice cut through the room.
“Stop.”
He had gone pale around the mouth.
“Give me the trust records.”
“I don’t keep them here.”
“Where?”
“With the accountant.”
“Which accountant?”
Silence.
Dad pulled out his phone.
“I’m calling Martin.”
For the first time, Veronica looked truly worried.
Martin Hale had been Dad’s accountant for twenty years.
He had also been one of my mother’s closest friends.
Veronica crossed the room quickly.
“Richard, it’s midnight.”
“I don’t care.”
“He has a family.”
“So does Claire.”
He called.
No answer.
Called again.
Still nothing.
Then his phone buzzed.
A text.
Dad read it aloud.
Veronica stared at him.
“What did he say?”
Dad locked the phone.
“Nothing you need to worry about.”
She laughed, sharp and humorless.
“You think Martin is on your side?”
Dad picked up her suitcase and set it in the hall.
“I think you should leave.”
Madison jumped up.
“Where are we supposed to go?”
“Hotel. Your grandmother’s. I don’t care.”
“You’re choosing her?”
Dad looked at her for a long moment.
“I’m choosing the truth.”
Madison’s face twisted.
“She’s always hated me.”
I stepped back as if she had shoved me.
Dad shook his head.
“No. Claire protected you.”
Madison laughed.
“From what?”
Dad looked at me.
And I realized he knew.
He knew about the night Madison took his car.
The night I lied for her.
The night someone could have died.
May you like
Dad said quietly, “Claire, tell her.”
And Madison’s face went white.
