Chapter 13 - The Brother Problem
I looked through the glass at Cole.
He was standing beside Sheriff Talley.
Hands in his pockets.
Head down.
My little brother.
Forty years old.
Still somehow my little brother.
Harlan’s warning sat on my screen.
DO NOT TRUST COLE WITH THE NOTEBOOK.
Leah said, “Don’t show him the message yet.”
“I hate this.”
“I know.”
“No, I mean I hate what it turns me into.”
“Suspicious?”
“Like Dad.”
Leah was quiet.
Then said, “Suspicion with evidence is not the same as control.”
Maybe.
Still felt ugly.
I put the notebook back in the box and removed only copies permitted by bank staff.
When I stepped out, Cole looked up.
“What was in it?”
“Records.”
“What records?”
“Mom’s.”
He waited.
I did not elaborate.
He noticed.
“So now you don’t trust me.”
I glanced at Sheriff Talley.
Cole laughed.
“Wow.”
“Cole—”
“No. It’s fine.”
He started toward the exit.
I followed.
“Where are you going?”
“Home.”
“You shouldn’t go to Dad’s house.”
“I have my own house.”
“You know what I mean.”
He spun around.
“Do you?”
People in the lobby looked over.
His voice dropped.
“You disappear for twenty years except birthdays and emergencies, then come back with military posture and cameras and suddenly you get to decide who everybody is.”
“That’s not fair.”
“No.”
His face twisted.
“Neither was finding out my first business came from money stolen from you.”
I stopped.
That was the first time he had called it stolen.
He shoved his hands into his coat.
“I don’t know what to do with that.”
“I don’t either.”
“Good.”
He walked out.
I let him.
Mistake.
At 4:12 p.m., Harlan called.
“You have the notebook?”
“Yes.”
“Does Cole know?”
“Not what’s in it.”
“Keep it that way.”
“Why?”
Harlan hesitated.
Then said, “Because Red Basin was not Wade’s company.”
My chest tightened.
“Whose was it?”
“Cole’s.”
I gripped the phone.
“He was nineteen.”
“On paper.”
“You told us Dad used him.”
“I said he signed companies. I did not say he knew nothing.”
My stomach turned.
“What did he know?”
“I don’t know.”
“You’re really good at partial truths.”
“That’s how I made a living.”
At least he admitted it.
I asked, “What’s on the VHS tape?”
Silence.
“Harlan.”
“Your mother recorded a meeting.”
“With who?”
“Wade. Me. And Cole.”
My heart seemed to stop.
“Cole was nineteen.”
“Yes.”
“What meeting?”
Harlan exhaled.
“The night we decided which account would take the loss.”
I whispered, “What loss?”
“Your mother’s.”
I hung up.
Then called Cole.
No answer.
Again.
No answer.
Sheriff Talley checked his plate through dispatch.
His truck had been picked up by a traffic camera twenty minutes earlier.
Heading east.
Toward Juniper Ridge.
I opened my security app.
A camera notification flashed.
One person at the front porch.
Cole.
He was holding a gas can.
May you like
