Chapter 7: The Morning Grant Came to the House
He was released at six-fifteen in the morning.
Diane called me at six-forty to tell me.
She said the domestic charge required a mandatory cooling-off period but that his lawyer had moved quickly.
She said there would be a no-contact order in place and that Grant was legally prohibited from coming within five hundred feet of Brooke.
I thanked her and hung up.
Brooke was asleep in the guest room.
I stood in the kitchen and watched the street through the front window and told myself there was nothing to worry about.
At seven-oh-three, a car pulled up outside.
Grant got out.
He was still in the same clothes from the night before.
He walked up the front path with his hands in his pockets, and he rang the doorbell the way a person rings a doorbell when they own the place they're standing in front of.
I opened the door before the second ring.
"She's not seeing you," I said.
"I just want to talk to her."
"There's a no-contact order."
"I know about the order." His voice was measured.
Controlled.
"I just want two minutes.
That's all.
Two minutes to explain."
"Grant—"
"Please." He said it like the word cost him something.
"I know how last night looked.
I know what she told them.
But there are things she doesn't understand about the financial situation, and if she moves forward with this before I can explain, she's going to destroy something that can't be put back together."
"The no-contact order—"
"Is a piece of paper." His voice dropped.
"I am her husband.
I have a right to speak to my wife."
Behind me, I heard Brooke's door open.
She appeared at the top of the stairs in the clothes she'd slept in.
She looked at Grant through the open door.
He looked up at her.
"Brooke." His voice changed.
Softened.
"Baby, just let me explain.
Five minutes.
I can fix this."
She came down the stairs slowly.
She stopped at the bottom, behind me.
"You can't come in," she said.
"I know.
I'm not asking to come in.
I'm asking you to listen."
"I'm listening."
He glanced at me.
"Alone."
"No," Brooke said.
Something moved across his face.
He swallowed it.
"The account," he said.
"The one on the recording.
I know how it sounds.
But Terrence put me in a position I couldn't get out of.
I was protecting us.
I was protecting you.
If that investigation lands on him and my name is connected to those transfers, everything we have is at risk."
"You were moving money into an account I couldn't access," Brooke said.
"You told me it didn't exist."
"I was keeping it safe."
"Safe from me?"
"Safe from the investigation." His voice tightened.
"Brooke, if you file those papers, you're going to hand them exactly what they need to tie me to Vail.
Do you understand what that means?
Do you understand what they'll do with that?"
"I gave the recordings to a detective last night," Brooke said.
"I gave them everything."
Grant went very still.
"You already—"
"Yes."
The color left his face.
He gripped the doorframe.
I stepped slightly forward.
"You don't know what you've done," he said.
"I think I do."
"Brooke." His voice dropped to something that was almost a whisper.
"If this goes where I think it's going, I won't be the only one who loses everything.
You understand that?
The house, the accounts — they'll freeze everything.
You'll have nothing."
"My name is on the deed," Brooke said.
"My attorney confirmed it last night."
He stared at her.
"You talked to a lawyer last night."
"I've had a lawyer for two months."
The silence between them was complete.
Then Grant said something I will never forget.
Not because it was threatening.
But because of how small it was.
"I thought you needed me," he said.
Brooke looked at him for a long moment.
"I know you did," she said.
"That was the problem."
She stepped back from the door.
"You need to leave now, Grant.
If you don't, I'm calling the police."
He stood on the doorstep for another ten seconds.
He looked at her.
He looked at me.
He looked at the space between us like he was calculating something.
Then he turned and walked back to the car.
He didn't look back.
I closed the door.
Brooke sat down on the bottom stair and pressed her hands flat on her knees.
"Are you all right?" I asked.
"I need coffee," she said.
I went to make it.
My phone was on the kitchen counter.
There was a new message from Diane, sent four minutes ago.
*Vail's attorney contacted my office this morning.
May you like
They want to know what's in the recordings.
Call me when you can.*
