Chapter 6: The Phone Call That Changed the Positions
Brad didn't speak for four full seconds.
When he did, his voice had the careful, measured quality of someone deciding very quickly how much to admit.
"What recording," he said.
"The one your father made in the kitchen.
Ten months ago.
While I was visiting my sister."
Another silence.
Shorter this time.
"That conversation was private."
"Your father recorded it and gave it to his attorney.
That's not private anymore." I kept my voice even.
"I also have the email chain.
The one where you asked Garrett Finch to put together something that raises doubt.
His words and yours."
"Patricia, you need to understand the position we were in—"
"I understand it exactly.
You hired someone to investigate me.
He found nothing.
You asked him to fabricate doubt.
He refused.
Then Stephanie started telling the neighbors I was secretive and that you had found things that concerned you.
There were no things.
You had nothing." I paused.
"I want to hear you tell me I have that wrong."
Silence.
"We were scared of losing the house," he said finally.
The careful voice was gone.
What replaced it was something smaller.
"That house is all we have left of Mom."
"I know that."
"You can't know what that feels like."
"Brad, I have lived in that house for eleven years.
I have repainted every room your mother chose because the paint was peeling.
I have kept the garden she planted.
I have fixed the fence she picked out.
I have sat on that porch every summer evening because Frank loved it and because I loved him." I stopped.
"I did not take your mother's place.
I took care of what she left behind."
The line was quiet for a long time.
"What are you going to do?" he said.
"I haven't decided."
"Patricia—"
"I have grounds for a defamation claim.
Mr.
Delgado has already told me that.
Stephanie's messages to the neighbors are documented.
Your emails to the investigator are documented.
Your threat to Frank — to challenge the will, to call him incompetent, to make it public — that's on record too." I let that sit for a moment.
"I haven't decided what I'm going to do with any of it."
"What do you want?" Brad asked.
His voice had gone very flat.
Not hostile.
Just stripped of everything else.
"Right now I want you and Stephanie to withdraw the legal challenge."
"And if we do?"
"Then we'll talk.
In person.
With Mr.
Delgado present."
"And the defamation—"
"I said we'll talk."
He breathed out slowly.
"I need to speak to Stephanie."
"I know.
You have until Friday." I looked at Mr.
Delgado across the desk.
He gave a small nod.
"Call Mr.
Delgado's office when you've made a decision."
I ended the call.
My hand was steady.
I noticed that.
I set the phone on the desk and looked at it for a moment, almost surprised.
"That was well handled," Mr.
Delgado said.
"I don't feel like I handled anything.
I feel like I read from a script Frank wrote for me." I looked at the box still sitting on the corner of his desk.
"He thought of everything, didn't he."
"He loved you very much," Mr.
Delgado said simply.
"And he knew his children."
I reached over and picked up the photograph from the box.
Frank and me on the back porch.
A Tuesday afternoon I couldn't even place.
Someone had seen something worth capturing in that ordinary moment — two people sitting together, not performing anything for anyone.
I turned it over.
*She stayed.
She loved.*
Four words.
Eleven years.
Everything Brad and Stephanie had tried to make ugly, Frank had seen clearly all along.
"I'll be in touch before Friday," I said.
I put the photograph in my bag, next to the USB drives and the folded letter I still hadn't opened.
I stood, shook Mr.
Delgado's hand, and walked out into the afternoon.
My car was the only one in the small lot.
I sat in the driver's seat for a moment without starting the engine.
Then my phone buzzed.
Not Brad this time.
Stephanie.
*I know what Brad just told you.
I need you to hear my side of this.
Please.
Can we meet tomorrow?
Just the two of us?*
I read it twice.
Then I typed back: *Tomorrow.
Two o'clock.
The house.*
If she wanted to talk, we would talk.
On Frank's porch.
May you like
In Frank's house.
Which was now mine.
