Chapter 4 - Messages I Never Sent
"I thought you hated me," Mara said.
"I thought you stopped answering because you hated me."
She sat on the edge of the empty visitor's chair. "Celeste told me you needed space. Then I got that text."
I stared at the screen. In July, Celeste had taken my phone for two days, claiming the charging port needed repair. I had barely noticed because my back pain was bad and I was sleeping through afternoons.
"She had my phone," I said.
Mara nodded once. "And she had my access badge to the trust office. She said she was dropping off some documents."
"Did you let her?"
"I trusted her. That's what makes me feel so stupid."
"No," I said. "Trusting someone who belongs in your house isn't stupidity. The lying belongs to her."
Mara looked down. "Then why didn't you trust me?"
I had no good answer. I told her so.
We had owned the land beneath Haven Street through the Evelyn Ward Community Trust, named for my mother. After a hurricane destroyed half the neighborhood decades earlier, she bought the properties before speculators could. Her rule was simple: residents could stay as long as they honored their leases, and no developer would erase them for a better view.
As chair of the trust, I had sworn to protect that promise. Celeste ran the daily office after my spinal injury.
Mara opened another message. It was from Celeste to her, sent three weeks earlier.
YOUR FATHER HAS AGREED TO THE SALE. STOP INTERFERING.
"I answered that I wanted proof," Mara said. "She blocked me."
A nurse came in carrying my discharge paperwork. Brooks was right behind her.
"I have a question," the detective said. "Did you open a business checking account in February under the name Ward Restoration Services?"
"No."
Brooks watched me closely. "Then someone used your identification. We have a lead on the account, but not yet the records."
May you like
She paused at the doorway.
"And your wife's lawyer has just filed a notice claiming you're unable to manage your own affairs."
