Chapter 3: Before He Gets There
Emily laid the filings beside the investigator’s report and made herself stop staring at Kevin’s name.
A name on a page wasn’t an answer. It was a question. So she opened a fresh note on her phone and began arranging what she knew by date: the hotel charge, the nights Kevin had called client meetings, the filing dates, the lien. Her pulse kept jumping ahead to the worst possibilities, but she forced her thoughts back to what she could ask Thomas.
Had he signed anything? Had he known the house was involved? What did Kevin tell him the family meeting was for?
Her phone lit with Thomas’s message again: Please speak to me before Kevin does.
Emily typed, I’m coming to you. Can you meet me somewhere private?
She watched the screen, waiting. No reply came.
The hotel room’s stale heat pressed against her skin. She folded the filings into the manila envelope, slid it into her tote, and took a slow breath. She had booked a car for the morning, but morning was too late if Kevin got to Thomas first. A rideshare could have her in the family neighborhood tonight.
As she reached the lobby, her phone rang. Kevin’s name filled the screen. She let it ring once, then answered.
“I’m downstairs,” he said. “Where are you?”
“In the lobby.”
“I’ll come in.”
“You don’t need to.”
“I’m already here, Emily.”
Through the glass entrance, she saw him beside his car. He was looking toward the lobby doors, one hand tucked into his coat pocket. The sight of him tightened something beneath her ribs—not fear exactly, but the old instinct to make herself smaller before he could decide she was being difficult.
She pressed her palm briefly to her stomach.
Then she walked outside.
Kevin’s gaze dropped to her tote. “You brought the papers.”
“I brought my things.”
“Don’t do this here.”
“Then tell me whether Dad signed the filings.”
His expression shifted, the briefest crack in his practiced concern. “What filings?”
“The ones involving his house.”
“Emily.” He lowered his voice and glanced toward the hotel entrance, though nobody had followed her out. “You’ve been digging around in county records?”
She held his gaze. “You know I have.”
“I know you’re exhausted, pregnant, and turning a family meeting into an investigation.”
“Those aren’t answers.”
He opened the passenger door of his car. “Get in. We’ll talk on the way.”
“No.”
“Don’t make a scene.”
“I’m not getting into your car.”
For a moment, they stood with the door hanging open between them. Kevin’s face had gone still, his mouth set in the familiar line that meant he expected her to reconsider simply because he had stopped asking.
“You don’t know where you’re going,” he said.
“I can read an address.”
“Dad’s had a rough day. You show up with accusations and paperwork, you could set him back.”
The concern in his voice might once have softened her. Now she heard the shape of it: Thomas’s well-being offered like a locked door.
“Did he ask you to speak for him?”
Kevin’s jaw tightened. “He’s my father.”
“That wasn’t my question.”
She stepped away from his car and opened the rideshare app. Kevin stayed beside the passenger door, watching her enter the address she had saved for the morning. When the car’s arrival estimate appeared, she felt a small, fierce relief.
“Emily, you’re not thinking clearly.”
“I’ve written down questions. That’s all.”
“You think those papers tell you what happened?”
“They tell me something happened.”
His eyes sharpened. “You’re going to upset him for nothing.”
Her rideshare pulled into the hotel drive. Emily checked the license plate, then opened the back door. Kevin moved as if he meant to stop her, but she was already inside.
“Send me the address,” he called.
She shut the door without answering.
The car rolled away. Emily watched Kevin shrink behind the glass until the hotel vanished around a bend. Then she took out her phone and typed to Thomas: I’m on my way. I’ll wait nearby if you can’t talk yet.
The reply came before the driver turned onto the main road.
Don’t come tonight.
Emily’s stomach clenched. She read the message again, searching for a second meaning, but the words stayed the same.
Her phone buzzed once more.
Kevin: Dad’s too fragile for your suspicions. Let him rest. We’ll all talk tomorrow.
She stared at the text. Thomas had asked her to reach him before Kevin did, and now Kevin was telling her not to go. Maybe Thomas had changed his mind. Maybe someone else had sent the message. She couldn’t turn uncertainty into proof—but she couldn’t pretend the timing didn’t matter.
She put the phone facedown on her lap.
The neighborhood arrived in pieces: dark storefronts, wet pavement shining under streetlamps, rows of houses with their curtains drawn against the cold. The driver stopped several blocks from Thomas’s home at Emily’s request. She paid, stepped out carefully, and tucked her tote beneath her coat.
She didn’t walk straight to the house. Instead, she stood beneath the bare branches of a tree at the corner, where she could see the street without being seen from the front windows. Her breath clouded in the air. One hand rested against her belly; the other gripped the phone.
She sent Thomas one last message.
I’m nearby. I won’t come to the door unless you ask.
For a while, nothing changed. Then a light appeared in an upstairs window of Thomas’s house.
Emily leaned forward, hardly daring to breathe. The light held for three seconds, then went dark.
May you like
At the end of the street, headlights swung around the corner.
Kevin’s car turned toward the house.
