Chapter 6: What Betsy Knew
Aunt Betsy lived twelve minutes from the police station, in a yellow house with a ceramic rooster on the porch that had been there since before I could remember.
I hadn't called ahead.
She answered the door in a housecoat, a mug of tea in her hand, and the expression of someone who had been expecting a knock but hoping it wouldn't come.
"Connor," she said.
"Can I come in?"
She stepped back.
I followed her into the kitchen.
She set her mug on the counter and didn't offer me anything.
"You were one of the witnesses on my father's will," I said.
"Yes."
"So you knew what the real will said.
You knew the house was mine."
She looked out the window over the sink.
The backyard was full of morning light.
A bird feeder hung from the oak tree.
Everything looked very peaceful and very ordinary.
"Betsy."
"I knew," she said.
"And when Teresa showed you the other document — the forged one — what did you do?"
She was quiet for a long moment.
"She didn't show it to me.
She told me about it.
She said she was going to — she said she needed the house.
She said you had more than enough and she had nothing."
"And you said nothing."
"I told her it was wrong." Betsy turned from the window.
Her eyes were red at the edges.
"I told her not to do it.
She said it was already done.
That the papers were filed.
That there was no point in saying anything because it would only tear the family apart."
"It was already filed," I said slowly.
"Fourteen months ago."
"Yes."
"And you stayed silent for fourteen months."
She set both hands on the counter.
"I didn't know about the money, Connor.
I didn't know she was taking your money.
I thought she'd filed some paper and that was the end of it — that maybe it would never come up, that maybe—" Her voice broke.
"I told myself it wasn't my business."
"My wife was working in my kitchen last night with a fever and a sick baby," I said.
"Because your sister threw a party with money she st*al from me every month.
And you knew the house wasn't hers.
You knew.
And you sat at that party and laughed."
Betsy put her hand over her mouth.
"I need to know everything she told you," I said.
"Every conversation.
Every detail.
Because the police are going to come here and ask you the same questions, and the answer you give them is going to matter."
She sat down at the kitchen table.
Hard, like her legs had given out.
"The two accounts," she said quietly.
"The ones she was sending money to.
I don't know whose they are.
But she mentioned a name once.
She said a man named Garrett had helped her set things up.
I don't know his last name.
I only heard it once."
I pulled out my phone and texted the name to Reeves immediately.
"Betsy." I sat down across from her.
"You're going to need to tell them everything.
Not a version of it.
Everything."
She nodded.
Her tea was going cold on the counter.
"Is she going to go to prison?" she asked.
"I don't know.
That's not up to me."
She looked at her hands.
"She's my sister."
"I know."
"I should have stopped her."
"Yes," I said.
"You should have."
I stood up to leave.
At the door, I paused.
"The ceramic rooster," I said.
"My dad gave you that."
She looked up.
"He was a good man," I said.
"He deserved better from both of you."
I walked back to my truck.
Reeves called before I'd started the engine.
"We found the Garrett connection," he said.
"Garrett Lowe.
He has a prior for document fraud in Kentucky.
We're picking him up now."
I gripped the steering wheel.
"How many people were in this?" I said.
"More than your mother wanted you to think," Reeves said.
May you like
"And fewer than she needed.
That's why it's falling apart."
