Page 90 of You Know Why

“He might know, but like I said, it’s never been an issue.”

“Does this have to do with Dad? Is this why the two of you are estranged?”

Bob doesn’t know what to do with his hands. I can tell he wants to touch me, to reassure me, just as he has so many times in the past. That would be unwelcome now, and he senses it. Finally, he folds them together awkwardly. “We need to stay focused on the situation we find ourselves in, Brooklyn. Trey was stealing money from the company. I need to know what he’s told you. Where he’s hiding it.”

“He told me nothing. You don’t think this has something to do with Dad’s past, do you? That someone is out to get him and taking it out on us? That Trey has been set up?”

Pat shakes her head. “Your father’s sins are his own, Brooklyn. As are Trey’s. He’s broken our hearts. Stealing from us? Putting you in such extreme danger? There must be something he’s told you, anything that you can think of might help.”

“I don’t know anything.”

“Think!” Pat says, her voice harsher than I’ve ever heard. The stress of this is getting to her.

“Is the company in trouble?”

Pat scoffs. I’ve never seen her so annoyed. “Of course it is. We have no money left. Trey’s taken every bit of cash. We need to find him and retrieve the funds. You have to tell us where he is, Brooklyn. Our lives depend on it.”

“Now all our lives are at stake? Yours too?”

“He’s tried to murder you twice, you silly girl. Why can’t you see that he’s turned against us all?”

I close my eyes and say nothing more. I have so many questions, but these people—these lovely people—have become my enemies. They are the reason this is happening. They went to the FBI and claimed my husband was embezzling, and set the wheels in motion for our world to implode. Which means anything I say to them will be reported back to the cops, analyzed, parsed. It feels like everyone is waiting for me to trip up, to remember something that will implicate Trey. They’re pushing me, hard. To recall, to report, to admit. To embellish. To fabricate, even.

And that feels wrong.

I will not betray him. And his secrets are safe with me, because I don’t know them. I’ve been searching every corner of my mind for anything that might give me a clue to any of this, and there’s nothing.

And to top it all off, we’re not even blood relations with Bob? No. Not going along with this anymore. It’s as bad as all the crap with our dad, and I do not want to revisit those horrors.

“I need to go back to my room.”

“We’ll walk with you,” Bob says. “I’m sorry, I know that got heated. We’re just frightened for you, dear.”

“I can do it myself.”

I march off, as much as I can march, and they trail behind me anyway.

Back in the room, I get settled in the chair. I’m tired, but I’m feeling so much stronger. I bet I get to go home tomorrow.

Bob deposits the balloons and flowers on the air-conditioning vent. I can tell he is about to start grilling me again when Eden happens to sail in.

“Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t know you had company. I’ll go get some coffee and come back.”

“No, please stay. Pat and Bob were just leaving.”

They exchange a glance at my abrupt dismissal but take the hint.

Margot knocks on the door. “Yoo-hoo! Oh, hey, Aunt Pat, Uncle Bob.” She sees my face, and her brows furrow. “Everything okay?”

“It’s all good. All good.” Pat gives my sister a stiff hug, then addresses me again. “If you remember anything, call anytime. We’d like to see the kids, too. We can take them for a few days when you’re discharged, let you get back on your feet.”

I watch her for a moment, this woman who has been like a mother to me and to Trey. A woman who has betrayed my husband—betrayed us—in the most egregious way. Rage builds in my body, hot and thick.

“Stay away from my children. And stay away from me. This is all your fault. I’m here because of you.”

Margot gasps, and Bob and Pat look like I’ve slapped them. I wish I could. I wish I could wipe the smug smiles off their faces. How dare they come here and pump me for information?

Margot starts babbling apologies, as if she can replace my harsh words with assurances of love, but they seem not to hear her. Pat helps Bob to his feet. He touches the petals of the roses they’ve brought. His voice is cracked and soft. “I’m sorry you feel that way, Brook. Just know you can come to us anytime. Our door will always be open.”