Chapter 7
I began recording conversations in my own home after Naomi told me, carefully and professionally, that if I was preparing to separate, documentation mattered. She also told me to understand the recording laws in my state and wherever I was recording. I did. I learned more legal language in three months than I had in my entire life.
But tonight I had not planned to record anything at dinner.
I had brought the device because I planned to meet Naomi in the morning and hand over everything I had already collected. It was in my bag along with the folder Jackson had never found.
The folder was what Genesis had seen.
Not the recorder.
The edge of it had slipped from my handbag when I pulled out my phone. A plain manila folder, marked with a blue tab.
ST. PAUL PROPERTY — TRANSFER ATTEMPT.
That was what had wiped the rage off Jackson’s face.
Not fear of the police.
Fear of what I had discovered.
I opened my eyes.
“It’s mine,” I said. “A recorder. But it wasn’t running tonight.”
Jackson exhaled sharply, relief flashing across his features before he could hide it.
Genesis’s shoulders lowered a fraction.
Then I reached into my handbag with slow, careful fingers and pulled out the folder.
“This,” I said, “is what they’re worried about.”
Genesis made a small sound.
Arthur closed his eyes.
The officer took the folder but did not open it immediately. “What is it?”
“Documents related to my apartment,” I said. “Someone tried to initiate a transfer of ownership using my information.”
Jackson barked out a laugh. “That’s insane.”
But he looked at his mother when he said it.
Not at me.
The female officer noticed that too.
I turned toward Genesis. “You knew the notary’s name.”
May you like
Her face became perfectly still.
It was a gift of hers, that stillness. She could disappear behind it whenever emotion threatened to expose her. I had seen it at bridal showers, hospital visits, dinners where Jackson drank too much and said too little afterward. A marble mask with pearl earrings.
