Chapter 8: What Brenda Knew
Patricia read Brenda's message at seven the next morning and called me before I'd finished my coffee.
"This is a gift," she said.
"It didn't feel like one."
"Witness tampering.
Intimidation.
Depending on how her attorney reads it, potentially obstruction." I heard papers moving on her end.
"I'm filing it with the court as evidence of bad faith conduct.
It also tells us something important."
"What?"
"They're scared." A pause.
"Scared people make mistakes.
Let's see what she actually has, because I suspect the answer is nothing.
But the threat itself is now on record."
I set down my coffee.
"She said things about me could come out.
What does that even mean?"
"It means she's hoping you don't know the difference between a real threat and a bluff." Patricia's voice was dry.
"Do you have anything in your past that could be used against you in a custody proceeding?"
"No."
"I didn't think so.
But I had to ask."
Gerald called an hour later.
The asset freeze had gone through.
Jason had attempted a transfer the previous evening — just under the threshold, but Gerald's flag had caught it anyway.
The bank had placed a hold.
"He tried," Gerald said.
"He didn't get through."
"How much?"
He told me.
It was a significant amount.
Enough to have made a real difference if it had gone through.
"He knew we were moving," I said.
"He knew.
He just moved too late."
I sat with that for a moment.
He had been planning this for over two years.
Building the account, positioning the assets, preparing the exit.
And in the end, the thing that stopped him was forty-eight hours.
The forty-eight hours between Luke's phone call and Patricia's filing.
If I had gone home that night.
If I had come back by morning, the way he'd told his friends I always would.
If I had read one more apologetic text and decided to let it go.
I didn't let myself finish the thought.
That afternoon, Jason's attorney contacted Patricia.
He wanted a meeting.
No court, no formal proceedings — just a conversation to see if terms could be reached.
Patricia called me.
"He wants to negotiate."
"Already?"
"Gerald's report rattled them.
Rowan's evidence rattled them more." She paused.
"His attorney is good.
He'll try to minimize the asset issue, frame it as a misunderstanding, offer you a settlement that looks reasonable on the surface but protects Jason's position."
"What do you recommend?"
"We go to the meeting.
We listen.
We offer nothing." A beat.
"And we let them see that we have Rowan in the room if we need him."
The meeting was set for Friday.
Three days away.
On Thursday evening, Luke came by Carol's house.
He sat at the kitchen table with a cup of tea he didn't drink and turned it in his hands for a while before he spoke.
"I should have told you sooner," he said.
"About what I suspected.
I kept thinking it wasn't my place.
That I didn't have enough to be sure." He looked up.
"I watched him humiliate you in front of thirty-six people and I stood there with a beer in my hand."
"You called me that night," I said.
"That's not enough."
"Luke." I waited until he looked at me.
"You called me.
You told me the truth when it was hard to tell.
You gave me the forty-eight hours I needed." I shook my head.
"That's not nothing."
He nodded slowly.
Didn't look entirely convinced.
But some of the tension went out of his shoulders.
"How are you actually doing?" he asked.
I thought about it.
"I feel like I'm in the middle of something.
Not at the beginning anymore.
Not at the end yet." I paused.
"But I'm not lost in it."
"Good," he said quietly.
Mia came in from the living room and climbed into my lap without asking, the way she always did.
I wrapped my arms around her.
She leaned back against me and went back to whatever she'd been thinking about, entirely unbothered.
Luke watched us.
Something in his face settled.
"She's going to be okay," he said.
"She has you."
I pressed my chin to the top of her head.
Outside, the evening was cooling down.
The summer that had started with a cookout and a public humiliation was moving toward something else now.
I could feel it the way you feel a season turning — not in one moment, but in the accumulation of small things.
Tomorrow was Friday.
Jason's attorney had requested the meeting.
May you like
That meant Jason was already looking for a way out that cost him less.
He was about to find out what things actually cost.
