Chapter 10: After the Warrant
Grace called while I was in a meeting at work.
I stepped into the hallway to take it.
"They executed the warrant this morning," she said.
"His attorney is already asking for a continuance."
"Did they get the account records?"
"All of it.
The LLC documentation, the shell invoices, the transfer history.
Thomas cooperated fully — he provided a written statement last night." She paused.
"His cooperation will likely reduce his own exposure significantly."
I looked through the glass at my colleagues waiting inside.
Someone had drawn a diagram on the whiteboard.
Someone else was laughing at something.
"What happens to Marcus now?" I said.
"He's been formally charged with financial fraud.
There will be proceedings.
His attorney will try to negotiate, but the paper trail is very clear." Grace's voice was steady.
"The divorce filing is separate, but the asset freeze is in place.
He cannot touch the house, the accounts, or anything held jointly."
"And Daniel?" I said.
"What happens to Daniel?"
A pause.
"That's between Renee and the family court.
It's not part of our proceedings.
But Renee has her own legal representation now.
She called me, actually — I referred her to a colleague."
"Good," I said.
"Olivia." Grace's voice shifted slightly.
"You did everything right.
I want you to know that."
"Tell me when he's formally arraigned," I said.
"I will," she said.
"It's done."
I went back into the meeting.
I sat down.
Someone asked if everything was okay and I said yes, just a call I had to take, and we continued with the diagram on the whiteboard.
At lunch I drove to the storage facility.
The manager recognized me.
He nodded without smiling this time, which felt more respectful somehow.
I went back to Unit 214.
The door was still unlocked from when I had left it open weeks ago.
Someone had pulled it down but not locked it.
I raised it again.
The boxes were still there.
The crib was still there.
The yellow blanket.
I stood in the doorway for a while.
I wasn't sure what I had come for.
Maybe just to see it in daylight, without shaking hands, without a phone ringing.
To look at it as what it actually was: a room full of things a man had hidden because he couldn't choose, and so he had chosen nothing, and kept everything, and paid $87 a month to keep the door closed.
I pulled the door down.
I handed the manager the key on my way out.
"You won't need to hold the unit anymore," I said.
He took the key.
"Understood."
I drove home a different way than I usually did.
No particular reason.
I just wanted to see different streets.
That evening, Renee called.
"Daniel asked about his father today," she said.
"I didn't know what to say."
"What did you tell him?"
"I told him his father was dealing with some grown-up problems and that it had nothing to do with how much his father loved him." She was quiet for a moment.
"I don't know if that's true.
But it's what he needed to hear today."
"I think that was the right thing," I said.
"I'm sorry, Olivia.
I know I've said it before."
"You don't need to keep saying it.
You didn't know the whole truth either."
"No," she said.
"I didn't."
We were quiet for a moment.
Two women at either end of a phone line, in two different houses, with two different versions of a life that had turned out to be the same lie.
"How is Daniel?" I said.
"He's okay.
He's resilient.
Kids are." She paused.
"He has a good heart.
Whatever else Marcus is, Daniel is a good boy."
"I believe you," I said.
After we hung up, I made dinner.
Just for myself.
I put a record on — something Carol had given me years ago that I had never listened to — and I cooked and ate and washed the dishes and the music played through all of it.
Marcus's name appeared in the local financial news four days later.
I read the first paragraph.
I set my phone face down on the counter.
May you like
I didn't read the rest.
I didn't need to.
