Chapter 5: The Brother Calls
I turned away from the house so my face wasn't visible through the gap in the blinds.
"Who is this?" I asked, though I already knew.
"Garrett Marsh," the man said.
"Radley's brother.
I got a call from a neighbor about a police officer going inside the house.
I just want to make sure there's no misunderstanding."
"What kind of misunderstanding are you concerned about?"
"Radley has a tendency to make things sound worse than they are." A brief pause.
"He's always been that way.
Dramatic.
Our parents used to say the same thing.
I love my brother, but he struggles with the truth sometimes."
I kept my voice even.
"I haven't told you anything about what Radley said."
A beat of silence.
"No.
You haven't."
"So what exactly are you worried I might have heard?"
Garrett's tone shifted — not much, but enough.
"Look, I've been supporting that household for years.
The rent I charge barely covers the property taxes and maintenance.
I could have sold that house.
I chose not to, because Radley needed somewhere stable.
I did that for him."
"That's generous," I said.
"It is." He said it without irony.
"And I'd hate for a well-meaning visit to turn into something that disrupts a situation that's actually working."
"Working for who?"
Another pause.
Longer this time.
"Officer, I don't know what Radley told you, but I can assure you — if there are any concerns about the property or about Brenna's welfare, I'm happy to address them directly.
I can drive down this weekend.
We can all sit down together."
"That's not necessary right now."
"I think it might be." His voice had gone careful.
Precise.
"I'd also gently point out that Radley's living situation is a private family matter.
Unless there's evidence of a crjme, I'm not sure what standing a patrol officer has to—"
"I appreciate the call," I said.
"I'll be in touch if I need anything further."
I ended the call before he could finish the sentence.
I stood on the porch for a moment.
A neighbor had called Garrett.
Within — I checked the time — forty-three minutes of my arrival.
Someone on this street had his number ready.
Someone had been watching.
I went back inside.
Radley was still on the bed.
Brenna had moved to the folding table in the kitchen and was doing homework, her pencil moving in careful, deliberate strokes.
"Garrett called me," I said.
Radley's head came up.
"Just now?"
"Just now.
A neighbor contacted him."
He let out a slow breath.
"Mrs.
Teller.
Two doors down.
She reports everything to him.
He set it up after I tried to talk to the housing authority last year."
"He set it up."
"He asked her to keep an eye on things.
She thinks he's being a good landlord." Radley's voice was completely flat.
"She brings him cookies when he visits."
Brenna looked up from her homework.
"What did he say?"
"He said he's been supporting this household for years," I told her.
"He said the rent barely covers costs."
She looked back down at her paper.
"He put new floors in his apartment in Spokane last spring," she said, still writing.
"I heard him tell Dad on the phone.
Heated floors.
He said they cost eleven thousand dollars."
The pencil kept moving.
I pulled the second folding chair out from the table and sat down across from her.
"Brenna," I said.
"When I was in your dad's room, I noticed a photograph on the milk crate.
Face-down."
She stopped writing.
"Do you know what photograph that is?"
She was quiet for a moment.
Then she put her pencil down and looked at me directly.
"It's a picture of my grandma," she said.
"Signing something at a table.
Dad took it on his phone.
He printed it out."
"Do you know what she was signing?"
"He thinks it's the will," she said.
"The new one.
The one Garrett brought." She paused.
"Grandma is looking at the camera in the picture.
Not at the paper.
Dad says she didn't know what she was signing.
He says she thought it was a birthday card."
The kitchen was very quiet.
"Where is the phone?" I asked.
"The one with the original photo?"
Radley appeared in the doorway.
He'd heard.
"Garrett took it," he said.
"When he came to collect rent fourteen months ago.
He said it was his — that it had been Mom's phone originally and it belonged to the estate." His voice was steady but his hands were not.
"I didn't fight him for it.
I didn't know then what I know now about what was on it."
"But you printed the photo first."
He nodded slowly.
"Brenna found it in the cloud.
On an old tablet.
She's smarter than both of us."
I looked at the seven-year-old sitting at the folding table with her homework.
She had found the photograph.
She had preserved it.
She had walked to the school and waited for me by name.
"Brenna," I said.
"Is the tablet still here?"
"Yes," she said.
"Don't touch it.
Don't open it.
Don't delete anything." I stood up.
"I need to make one more call."
I was halfway to the door when Radley spoke.
"Garrett said he's coming this weekend," he said.
"Didn't he."
I stopped.
I hadn't told him that.
"He calls after every visit from anyone official," Radley said.
"Social worker, housing inspector, anyone.
He always says he's coming to sort things out." He looked at the bare wall.
"And things always get worse after he does."
I turned back around.
"He's not coming this weekend," I said.
"I'll make sure of that."
Radley looked at me with an expression I recognized — the careful, guarded look of someone who had been promised things before.
"You said the same thing the social worker said," he told me quietly.
"'I'll make sure.' She said that too."
I didn't argue with him.
He was right to be careful.
"The difference," I said, "is that I have a photograph, a tablet, a witness, and a lawyer who's forty minutes away."
Brenna picked her pencil back up.
"Thirty-two minutes now," she said, without looking up.
May you like
"She said forty.
That was eight minutes ago."
