Chapter 8: The Conversation Marcus Thought Would Save Him
I didn't hang up.
Carol was on her feet the moment she heard me go still.
I held up one finger and she stopped.
Then I pointed at her phone and mouthed: *Record this.*
She was already moving.
"Marcus," I said.
"How did you get this number?"
"Ryan had it," he said.
"I have access to a lot of things Ryan has." A small pause.
"That's actually what I want to talk about."
"Go ahead."
"You've been through something terrible," he said.
"I want you to know I'm aware of that.
What Ryan did — that's on him.
I've never approved of how he handles stress.
That's not who our family is."
Carol held her phone up, recording.
"That's kind of you," I said.
"I want to help you," Marcus said.
"I want to make sure you and Noah are taken care of.
Financially.
Completely.
Whatever you need."
"That's generous."
"I just need one thing in return." His voice stayed smooth.
"Whatever you've been told about my company — whatever Ryan may have said, or whoever else may have approached you — I need you to understand that it's complicated.
There are people who want to make things look a certain way for their own reasons.
And if you get pulled into that, it's going to be very messy for you."
"Messy," I repeated.
"Custody proceedings.
Character assessments.
The question of whether Noah's recordings were spontaneous or — guided." A beat.
"I'd hate for any of that to become necessary."
There it was.
"Marcus," I said.
"Are you threatening me?"
"I'm protecting you," he said.
"There's a difference."
"Is there?"
"Emily." The smoothness dropped one degree.
"I'm trying to give you a way out of something that doesn't need to involve you.
Take the offer.
Let the lawyers handle the rest quietly.
You and Noah walk away comfortable.
That's a good outcome."
"And if I don't?"
Silence.
Then: "Then things get complicated.
For everyone."
"I see." I kept my voice even.
"Marcus, I want to ask you something."
"Go ahead."
"Did you tell someone this morning to find a witness who would say I coached Noah?"
A pause.
Shorter than he intended.
"I don't know what you're referring to."
"Jess does," I said.
The line went very quiet.
"Jess is not a reliable—"
"She has eight months of records," I said.
"Every transaction.
Every instruction.
Every email you sent her.
She walked into the FBI field office in Dallas at 2 p.m.
today." I paused.
"I think they've already been to your office.
Have you checked your messages in the last hour?"
Nothing.
"Marcus," I said.
"I'm not going to take your offer.
I'm not going to stay quiet.
And I'm not going to let you use my son to protect yourself."
"You have no idea what you're doing." The smoothness was gone now.
His voice was flat and hard.
"You think Jess is your ally?
She's trying to save herself.
She'll say whatever she needs to say.
And when this goes to court, I will spend whatever it takes to make sure everyone knows exactly what kind of mother lets her eight-year-old carry her phone around recording his own father."
"The kind who didn't know he was doing it," I said.
"Because he was trying to protect her."
Silence.
"Goodbye, Marcus," I said.
I ended the call.
Carol lowered her phone.
Her hand was shaking slightly.
"I got all of it," she said.
"Send it to David."
She was already typing.
I sat down on the couch and realized my heart was going very fast.
I pressed both hands flat on my knees and breathed.
Noah appeared in the doorway from the backyard.
Still holding the stick.
"Mom?
Are you okay?"
"Yes," I said.
"Come sit with me."
He came and sat beside me, the stick across his lap, and leaned his head against my arm the way he had done since he was small.
We sat like that while Carol's phone buzzed with David's reply.
She read it and looked up.
"He says the warrant covered Marcus's phones," she said.
"Including call records." She paused.
May you like
"This call is going to show up."
"Good," I said.
