Chapter 9: Gerald Pruitt Makes His Move
He called the next morning.
Sarah's phone rang at seven forty-two.
Unknown number.
She answered on the second ring.
"Sarah." Gerald Pruitt's voice was warm and unhurried.
"I hope I'm not calling too early.
I wanted to check in after yesterday."
"Not at all," Sarah said.
Margaret looked up from her coffee.
Sarah held up one finger.
"I've been thinking about our conversation," Pruitt said.
"I realize I may have seemed — forward.
Showing up like that.
I hope it didn't feel intrusive."
"Of course not," Sarah said.
"It was thoughtful."
"Good.
Good." A pause.
"I also wanted to say — and I hope this doesn't come across the wrong way — that if you and your mother need any help while you're getting settled back in Cypress Hollow, I'm happy to assist.
Practically speaking.
Your mother's house has been sitting with some deferred maintenance.
I have contractors I trust.
Good people."
"That's very generous."
"It's the least I can do.
For Thomas's family." Another pause.
Shorter this time.
"I also wanted to mention — and again, I hope this lands the right way — that I've been in this community a long time.
I know how things work here.
And sometimes when people come back after a long absence, they can form impressions that are — incomplete.
Based on old information."
Sarah said nothing.
"I just want to make sure," Pruitt continued, "that if you have any questions about your father's time here — about his business dealings, about anything that might seem confusing or unclear — you feel comfortable coming to me directly.
I knew him well.
I'd want to give you an accurate picture."
"I appreciate that," Sarah said.
"Because sometimes," he said, and his voice stayed warm, stayed easy, stayed exactly the same, "people hold onto things that cause them more pain than clarity.
And the kindest thing someone can do is help them let go."
The room was very still.
"Mr.
Pruitt," Sarah said.
"I'll keep that in mind."
"Please do." A beat.
"Take care of yourself, Sarah.
And that baby."
He hung up.
Sarah set the phone down on the blanket.
"He's telling me to drop it," she said.
"Yes," Margaret said.
"He's worried."
"Yes."
"Good." Sarah picked up her phone again and called Diane.
Diane answered on the first ring.
"He called me this morning," Sarah said.
"He offered to help with the house.
He told me people hold onto things that cause them more pain than clarity."
A pause.
"He's escalating," Diane said.
"I know."
"Did he threaten anything directly?"
"No.
Everything was warm and helpful and completely clear." Sarah paused.
"He's good at this."
"He's had twenty years of practice." Diane's voice was clipped.
"Ray found something last night.
I was going to call you this morning anyway."
"What?"
"The shell companies your father documented — three of them are still active.
They've changed names twice, but the registration signatures trace back to the same source." A pause.
"And one of them holds the deed to a parcel of land that was originally owned by your father."
Sarah went very still.
"He took land from my father."
"It transferred eighteen months after Thomas died.
Through a probate process that Margaret was apparently never notified about." Diane paused.
"Does your mother know about a parcel of land?
Roughly forty acres.
Outside Cypress Hollow, near the Atchafalaya."
Sarah looked at her mother.
"Mom.
Did Dad own land near the Atchafalaya?"
Margaret set her coffee down slowly.
"He used to take you there when you were small," she said.
"He called it the quiet place.
He always said he was going to build something on it one day." She paused.
"After he died, I assumed it had gone into the estate.
I signed so many papers that year.
I didn't — I didn't read everything carefully enough."
"She didn't know," Sarah said into the phone.
"I didn't think she did," Diane said.
"That parcel is currently being developed.
Pruitt's company broke ground eight months ago.
Projected value on completion — " She paused.
"Significant."
Sarah looked at the window.
"Diane," she said.
"How long before you're ready to move?"
"Ray needs two more days.
Then I take everything to a contact at the FBI field office in New Orleans.
I've worked with her before.
She's thorough and she doesn't leak." Diane paused.
"But Sarah — Pruitt knows something is happening.
He doesn't know how much.
If he gets nervous enough to move money or destroy records — "
"He won't," Sarah said.
"How can you be sure?"
"Because he came here to reassure himself that we didn't have enough," Sarah said.
"And he left reassured.
He thinks we're a grieving family with an old box of papers and nowhere to take them." She paused.
"Let him keep thinking that for two more days."
A silence.
"All right," Diane said.
"Two days.
Keep your phone on."
She hung up.
Margaret was watching her.
"He took the land," she said.
It wasn't a question.
"Yes."
Margaret looked at her coffee cup.
Her jaw was set.
"Your father loved that place," she said.
"He used to say the light came through the cypress trees in the late afternoon and it looked like something out of a painting." She paused.
"He took you there when you were four.
You fell asleep in the truck on the way home and he carried you inside and put you to bed without waking you.
He told me about it the next morning like it was the best thing that had ever happened to him."
Sarah didn't say anything.
"He took that too," Margaret said quietly.
"For two more days," Sarah said, "he gets to keep thinking he won."
May you like
Margaret picked up her coffee.
"Two days," she said.
