Chapter 7: What Evelyn Knew
My mother called at eleven-seventeen.
I was in Marcus's office reviewing the camera archive when her name appeared on my screen.
I let it ring twice, then answered and put it on speaker.
"Andrew." Her voice was different from the night before.
The dinner-party warmth was gone.
"I need to speak with you.
Alone.
Not with Marcus present."
"Marcus is my attorney.
Anything you say to me, you can say in front of him."
A long pause.
"I didn't know about the company," she said.
"I want you to understand that.
The house — your father told me it was a practical matter.
That Clara had agreed.
That it was simpler for the family finances.
I didn't know about Meridian."
"You knew about the storage room," I said.
Silence.
"You knew Toby was sleeping on a blanket on the floor.
You were in that house every day.
You served food on Clara's china and you left my son in a storage room and you said—" I stopped.
Steadied myself.
"You said he wasn't real family."
"Andrew, I—"
"And you told Clara that if she called me, you would make sure I came home believing she was the problem."
The silence this time was longer.
"Your father said it was necessary," she said finally.
"To keep things calm while the paperwork was arranged."
"So you knew about the paperwork."
Another pause.
Smaller.
The kind that answers the question without words.
"I knew there were documents," she said.
"I didn't read them.
I didn't ask what they said."
"That's not the same as not knowing, Mom."
She didn't answer that.
Marcus slid a printed page across the desk to me.
He tapped a line near the bottom.
I read it.
"The Delaware holding company," I said.
"The one that deposited forty-two thousand dollars into Natalie's account.
Marcus just found the source." I looked at Marcus.
He nodded.
"It was funded through a joint account.
Registered to Richard and Evelyn Holt."
The sound on the other end of the line changed.
A chair.
Movement.
"That account was your father's," she said.
"I didn't—"
"Your name is on the registration, Mom."
Nothing.
"I'm going to ask you one question," I said.
"And I need you to answer it honestly, because Marcus is sitting here and the camera footage from the past three weeks is already in a secured archive, and what you say right now will affect what happens next." I waited.
"Did you know they were planning to take the company?"
The pause stretched so long I thought she had ended the call.
"I knew they wanted more control," she said at last.
"I thought it would be handled quietly.
I didn't think—" Her voice broke slightly.
"I didn't think it would go this far."
"But you didn't stop it."
"No," she said.
"I didn't stop it."
I looked at the camera archive on Marcus's screen.
Seventeen incidents.
Clara's wrist.
Toby's bread.
Two folded blankets beside a storage closet.
"I'll be in touch through Marcus from now on," I said.
"Don't come to the house."
I ended the call.
Marcus closed the folder.
Neither of us said anything for a moment.
Then Marcus's phone rang.
He glanced at the screen and looked up at me.
"It's the detective," he said.
May you like
"The one I contacted about the holding company transfer."
"Answer it," I said.
