Chapter 6: The Morning He Came Home
Jacob's car pulled into the driveway at nine forty-seven in the morning.
The three younger kids were at school.
Rachel had asked to stay home.
I had let her.
She was upstairs when he came in.
I was in the kitchen.
He set his bag down by the door and looked at me the way he always did when he came back from a trip — a little tired, a little relieved.
He crossed the kitchen and kissed my cheek.
"Hey," he said.
"Hey."
He went to the coffee maker.
Poured himself a cup.
Leaned against the counter.
"So," he said.
"The freezer."
"The freezer," I said.
He looked at his coffee.
"How much did you see?"
"All of it."
He nodded slowly.
He didn't look surprised.
He looked like a man who had been rehearsing something for a long time and had finally reached the moment where he had to say it.
"I can explain."
"Then explain."
He set his cup down.
"Before we met — I was involved in something.
A business arrangement.
It wasn't entirely clean, but it wasn't what you're probably imagining.
No one got hurt.
It was financial.
Moving money between accounts, using the storage facility as a front address for certain transactions."
"With Daniel Carver."
His jaw tightened.
"You found the deed."
"I found everything, Jacob."
A long silence.
He looked toward the window.
"The cash is mine," he said.
"It's been accumulating for years.
I kept it there because I didn't know how to explain it without explaining everything else, and I kept telling myself I'd figure out a way to clean it properly and move it into a real account."
"Eighty-three thousand dollars."
He looked at me.
"You counted it."
"Down to the last hundred."
He put both hands on the counter.
"I was going to tell you.
I've been trying to find the right time for years."
"The right time." I kept my voice flat.
"Jacob.
Someone texted that prepaid phone.
They said they needed the last transfer before Thursday.
That's tomorrow."
He went very still.
"That's not — that's a different matter."
"Is it?"
"Yes." He pushed off the counter.
"That's Carver.
He's been trying to pull me back in for the last six months.
I've been putting him off.
I was going to shut it down completely after this last—"
"After this last what?"
He stopped.
"After this last transfer," I said.
"That's what you were going to say."
He didn't answer.
"So you're still doing it." My voice came out quieter than I expected.
"You never stopped."
"It's almost over."
"You have four children in this house, Jacob.
You have a daughter upstairs who asked me last night who her father really is.
And you're telling me it's almost over?"
He flinched.
"Rachel knows?"
"Rachel found it with me.
Rachel counted the money with me.
Rachel is sixteen years old and she spent last night wondering if her father is a crjminal."
The word landed.
I watched it land.
"I'm not—" He stopped.
Started again.
"It's not violent.
It's not drugs.
It's just money."
"Just money," I said.
"Hidden in a freezer.
Tied to a man who was investigated for money laundering.
With someone texting a secret phone about transfers." I stood up.
"Tell me what happens on Thursday."
He looked at me for a long moment.
"Sit down," he said.
"Please.
Let me tell you everything."
May you like
I didn't sit down.
But I listened.
