he can’t be here.
For years, I’d translated David’s selfishness into explanations our daughter could bear.
And she’d died while I was still trying to bring him back.
The next morning, Margaret called.
“Nathan spoke with someone.”
“Who?”
“A federal contact.”
I closed my eyes.
“Am I in trouble?”
“No.”
That surprised me.
She continued.
“But there’s already an investigation.”
I opened my eyes.
“What?”
“Apparently Vance Meridian has been under review for months because of irregular vendor payments. They did not have what they needed to directly connect the offshore entities to David.”
I glanced toward his locked office.
“And now?”
“Now they may.”
That afternoon, Special Agent Marcus Hale arrived.
He didn’t storm into my house.
Threaten me.
Or deliver dramatic speeches.
He sat at my kitchen table, accepted Rebecca’s coffee, showed his identification, and outlined what he could disclose.
An investigation existed.
He couldn’t reveal everything.
My
