Chapter 7 - The Letter From My Mother
Denise called from a gas station bathroom.
I could hear a hand dryer roaring in the background.
She was crying but trying not to sound like it.
That made it worse.
“Your father is tearing apart the office.”
“Why?”
“He thinks Cole stole something.”
“The letter?”
Silence.
“Denise.”
“Yes.”
“What does it say?”
“I only saw part.”
“Read me what you remember.”
“I can’t.”
“You called us.”
“I know.”
Her breath hitched.
Then she said, “Your mother wrote, ‘Nora will understand the ridge.’”
My skin prickled.
“What ridge?”
“I don’t know.”
“What else?”
“She wrote that Wade must never control Parcel A.”
Cole closed his eyes.
I asked, “Why?”
“I don’t know.”
“You keep saying that.”
“Because I don’t!”
Her voice cracked loud enough that somebody in the gas station asked if she was okay.
She lowered her voice.
“I married your father six years after your mother died. I did not know all of this.”
“You knew enough to stand at my gate with a realtor.”
Silence.
“I thought he had legal authority.”
“You saw a locksmith.”
“I know.”
That sounded small.
Not innocent.
Just small.
I let the silence stay.
Finally she whispered, “There’s more.”
Cole leaned closer.
“What?”
“Wade has a key to a bank box in Helena.”
I looked at him.
“Which bank?”
“He won’t tell me. But he has a receipt. Mountain State Trust.”
Leah had joined the call by then.
She broke in.
“Denise, do not take anything. Do not search his desk. Do not confront him. If you feel unsafe, leave.”
Denise went quiet.
“Who is that?”
“My attorney,” I said.
Dad had always mocked the military habit of preparing backup plans.
Tonight, I was grateful for every one.
Denise whispered, “Nora, your father has been calling someone named Harlan.”
Cole’s face changed.
“Who?”
“Harlan Pike.”
Cole swore.
I had never heard the name.
He had.
“Harlan is Dad’s old business attorney.”
Leah said, “Retired?”
“Disbarred,” Cole replied.
That got everyone’s attention.
“For what?” I asked.
“Handling client money. I don’t know details.”
Denise made a soft sound.
“I need to go.”
“Wait.”
“I can’t.”
The call ended.
Ten seconds later, my phone rang again.
Unknown number.
I answered.
A man’s voice said, “Ms. Mercer?”
“Yes.”
“This is Harlan Pike.”
Cole stood so fast his knee hit the table.
Harlan continued.
“I believe I have something that belongs to you.”
I looked at my brother.
“What?”
“A letter from your mother.”
My throat closed.
“Where are you?”
“Not somewhere I plan to tell Wade.”
His voice was dry and tired.
“And before you decide I’m helping you out of kindness, I’m not.”
“What do you want?”
“A chance to correct one thing I did twenty-seven years ago.”
I stared at the snow beyond the diner window.
“What did you do?”
He answered quietly.
“I notarized a lie.”
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