Chapter 12 - The Alibi That Was Never True
Elaine stopped taking notes.
She looked at Margaret with an expression I had never seen before.
"Before you say anything further, you need independent legal counsel."
Margaret blinked.
"What?"
"You may have exposure related to that statement."
"I came here for help."
"And I'm telling you that you need a lawyer who represents your interests."
Margaret stared at her.
Then at me.
"You can't just send me away."
"I'm not sending you away," Elaine replied.
"I'm explaining that what you're describing is serious."
I watched Margaret's face.
For fourteen years, she had presented herself as the woman who understood every rule in Gerald Ulette's world.
Now she looked like someone who had discovered that all the exits were locked.
I spoke quietly.
"Did you know the statement was false when you signed it?"
Elaine raised a hand.
"Evelyn."
I stopped.
She was right.
I wasn't conducting an interrogation.
And Margaret was entitled to legal advice.
But the name Daniel Price had changed the air in the room.
A man had been badly injured.
A suspicious document existed.
And the people who knew what happened had apparently spent fifteen years avoiding questions.
Margaret reached for her handbag.
"I should go."
Elaine nodded.
"I can give you names of independent attorneys."
Margaret stood.
Then looked at me.
"Your father wasn't always like this."
I felt something sharp move through my chest.
"Neither was my mother."
Margaret flinched.
I continued.
"But what they used to be doesn't erase what they did."
She looked away.
I watched her leave.
Then I stood at the conference room window for nearly ten minutes.
Elaine didn't interrupt.
Finally, I turned.
"Does Daniel know about the statement?"
"I don't know."
"Can we tell him?"
"We can explain that information has emerged and encourage him to consult counsel."
I nodded.
"And the accident?"
"If there is credible new information, it should be provided to the appropriate investigators."
I looked toward the door.
"Do you think Gerald was involved?"
Elaine took her time.
"I think we have an allegation about an inaccurate alibi."
"That's all?"
"That's all we can responsibly say right now."
I rubbed my forehead.
"You're infuriating."
"I've been called worse."
I almost smiled.
Then my phone rang.
It was Clare.
I answered.
"Hey."
"Evelyn, where are you?"
"Elaine's office."
"Is she there?"
"Yes."
"Can you both come to my apartment?"
I straightened.
"What's wrong?"
Clare inhaled shakily.
"Someone was inside."
My heart started pounding.
"Are you safe?"
"Yes."
"Is David with you?"
"Yes."
"Did you call the police?"
"He's talking to them now."
I grabbed my purse.
"We're coming."
The apartment looked normal when we arrived.
That was what made it so disturbing.
The framed wedding photograph on the hallway table was still there.
The cushions were arranged neatly.
The curtains were open.
Nothing appeared broken.
But Clare stood beside the bedroom door, staring at an empty bookshelf.
"They took the blue folder."
I looked at her.
"What blue folder?"
"The one Mom gave me."
Elaine stopped walking.
"When?"
"Five years ago."
I stared at my sister.
"You had documents from Mom?"
Clare's eyes filled.
"She told me not to open them until I was ready."
I felt the old, familiar ache of being the last person in the family to know something.
"What was inside?"
"I don't know."
"You never opened it?"
She shook her head.
"I was afraid."
David stepped beside her.
"She told me about it after the wedding."
I turned toward Elaine.
"Did you know?"
"No."
Clare began crying.
"I was going to give it to you."
I moved closer.
"Why didn't you?"
She wiped her face.
"Because Mom wrote something on the front."
"What?"
Clare looked at me.
Her expression was almost unbearable.
For Clare, when she understands why Evelyn left.
I closed my eyes.
The words hit harder than I expected.
For fifteen years, I had thought my mother didn't understand why I'd gone.
Now I knew she'd been protecting a story she didn't dare tell.
I looked at Clare.
"Did whoever came in take anything else?"
She shook her head.
"Just the folder."
The police officer nearby looked up from his notes.
"We can't yet confirm who entered or how."
I nodded.
"Understood."
He asked several questions about who had access to the apartment.
Clare listed the building staff.
David.
A cleaning service.
And my father.
"He has a key?" the officer asked.
Clare nodded.
"He arranged the apartment when I moved in."
The officer made a note.
I looked at my sister.
"Did you change the locks after he cut you off?"
"No."
David put a hand on her shoulder.
"We were going to."
I looked around the room.
My father's gifts were everywhere.
The apartment.
The furniture.
The expensive kitchen appliances.
Even the framed painting above the sofa.
He had paid for the life around Clare.
And now, whether or not he was responsible for the missing folder, his old access had become a frightening vulnerability.
I sat beside her.
"You're moving."
She gave a tired laugh.
"I know."
"Not because he wants you to."
I took her hand.
"Because you deserve a home that feels like yours."
She began crying again.
David sat on her other side.
For a moment, the three of us stayed like that.
Then Clare whispered, "There's something else."
I looked at her.
"What?"
She reached into her pocket.
And removed a small folded note.
"This was on my bed."
I took it.
The paper was plain.
The message had been printed in block letters.
YOU SHOULD HAVE LET THE PAST STAY BURIED.
I looked at the officer.
Then at Elaine.
She held out her hand for the note.
I passed it over carefully.
My phone vibrated.
A message from Daniel Price.
I found the original report Richard wanted me to sign.
Then another.
Evelyn, there's something on it I didn't notice fifteen years ago.
I opened the attached photograph.
The report concerned unauthorized removal of company documents.
My name appeared in the body.
Richard's name appeared at the bottom.
And beside the approval line was a typed name that made my stomach turn.
Eleanor Ulette.
May you like
My mother.
The document claimed she had reported me herself.
