Chapter 9 - The Empty Lot
Nora insisted we take the receipt to an independent accountant rather than building a story around handwriting. Dad couldn't say what the old payment meant, only that it had bothered him enough to keep. His caution steadied me. The Morettis had enough secrets without us inventing new ones.
Michael, Sophie and I walked the block behind Harbor Steps. The actual building smelled of plaster and fresh paint. Across the street, weeds grew inside a fenced vacant lot.
"Six people are supposed to move into rooms over there next month," Sophie said.
Michael pressed his palm against the fence. "No. They aren't."
A car pulled up. A man in an expensive overcoat stepped out, introduced himself as Northline's attorney, and told us photographs on the site required permission.
"From whom?" Michael asked. "The vacant lot?"
"Your foundation has contractual obligations. Public accusations will make them harder to meet."
"Show me one approved inspection for the missing apartments," Michael said.
The man didn't answer. He gave Nora's office number back to Michael and drove away.
At the real building, Sophie introduced us to two prospective residents who had waited nearly a year for stable housing. One, a nurse named Dani, said she'd been commuting from a shelter to early shifts.
"Don't tell me it's opening until you know," she asked. "I'm tired of packing for doors that stay shut."
Michael promised only to call by Friday with honest news. It cost him something to say so little.
May you like
When we returned to the estate, Mrs. Alvarez met us in the foyer. Someone had searched my locker. A diamond earring that belonged to Vanessa sat on top of my shoes in a little velvet pouch.
"Emily," Mrs. Alvarez said, "she's told the police you stole it."
