Chapter 2 - The Hotel Room)
Elena pulled into the first hotel with a vacancy.
It was not luxurious.
There was one elevator that made a scraping sound and a lobby carpet patterned with faded brown leaves.
Margaret apologized three times before they reached the room.
"For what?" Elena finally asked.
"For causing this."
Elena stopped outside their door.
"You didn't cause anything."
"I should never have gone into his office."
"He hit you."
"He was angry."
"That doesn't make it your fault."
Margaret looked down.
Elena recognized the gesture because she had spent years making it herself.
She inserted the key card.
"Tell me what you saw."
Margaret entered the room slowly.
Elena set the grocery bag she had somehow carried from the house onto the tiny desk.
Most of what she had bought now seemed ridiculous.
Two lemons.
Fresh basil.
Brandon's favorite cereal.
She stared at the box for a moment, then pushed the bag away.
Margaret sat on the bed.
"He had several papers spread across the desk."
"What kind?"
"I don't know."
"You said my name was on them."
"It was."
"Where?"
"At the top of one page. Elena Marie Ruiz."
Elena frowned.
She had kept her maiden name professionally but legally used Ruiz-Hale after marrying Brandon.
"What else?"
"There was an address."
Margaret hesitated.
"Mine."
Elena's face tightened.
"Your house?"
Margaret nodded.
Margaret's small white bungalow had been purchased thirty-eight years earlier with Elena's father. It was mortgage free.
After his death, Margaret had placed Elena on the deed as a precaution.
Brandon had complained.
He thought the property should eventually be sold.
Elena refused.
"What exactly did you say to him?"
"I asked why he had papers about my property."
"And?"
"He said they were financial planning documents."
Margaret touched her cheek.
"I told him my home had nothing to do with his finances."
Elena sat beside her.
"Then what happened?"
"He said you had agreed."
"Agreed to what?"
"He wouldn't tell me."
A cold sensation moved through Elena.
"Did you see a bank name?"
Margaret closed her eyes, concentrating.
"Something with North."
"Northbridge?"
Margaret opened her eyes.
"Yes."
Elena stood abruptly.
Northbridge Private Capital.
Brandon had interviewed there two years earlier.
He had not taken the job.
At least that was what he told her.
Elena grabbed her phone.
Margaret reached for her wrist.
"Please don't call him."
Elena looked at the screen.
She had intended to.
She imagined demanding explanations until Brandon finally surrendered one.
But her mother's fear changed her mind.
Instead she called Claire.
Claire answered on the fourth ring.
"Please tell me this isn't about Brandon."
Elena almost laughed.
"Why would you say that?"
"Because you only call me after nine for three reasons. Your mother, Brandon, or murder. And Margaret texted me twenty minutes ago saying she was with you."
Elena glanced at Margaret.
Her mother looked guilty.
"Can you come to the Riverside Hotel?"
Claire's joking tone vanished.
"Are you safe?"
"Yes."
"Is Margaret safe?"
"Yes."
"What happened?"
Elena swallowed.
"Brandon hit her."
Silence.
Then Claire said, "I'm coming."
She arrived twenty-eight minutes later carrying a laptop, two coffees, and the expression she wore in court when someone had lied badly.
She photographed Margaret's cheek from several angles.
She made notes.
She asked whether there were witnesses.
Then she turned to Elena.
"Do you want me as your friend or your lawyer?"
"Both."
"That can become complicated."
"I don't care."
Claire sat across from her.
"Then as your friend, I want to drive over there and do something that would cause me professional problems."
Margaret gave a tiny laugh despite herself.
Claire continued.
"As your lawyer, I'm telling you that from this moment forward you document everything."
Elena nodded.
"Tomorrow we request temporary protections if necessary, secure your individual finances, change passwords, and preserve evidence."
"Evidence of what?"
"At minimum, assault. Possibly financial misconduct if Margaret saw what she thinks she saw."
Elena rubbed her forehead.
"I don't even know what those papers were."
"Then we don't assume."
Claire opened her laptop.
"Joint checking?"
"Yes."
"Savings?"
"Joint."
"Investments?"
"Some joint, some individual."
"Retirement?"
"Separate."
"Credit cards?"
"Two joint, one mine."
"Property?"
"The house is both names. Mom's house is Mom and me."
Claire's fingers stopped over the keyboard.
"Does Brandon have power of attorney for you?"
"No."
"Ever sign anything giving him authority over Margaret's property?"
"Absolutely not."
Margaret whispered, "I told him that too."
Claire looked at her.
"Before or after he struck you?"
"Before."
Claire wrote something down.
Then Elena's phone rang.
Brandon.
She stared at the screen.
Claire extended her hand.
"Don't answer."
It stopped.
Thirty seconds later a message arrived.
COME HOME. WE NEED TO TALK LIKE ADULTS.
Then another.
YOUR MOTHER ATTACKED ME FIRST.
Then:
IF YOU INVOLVE POLICE YOU WILL REGRET IT.
Claire held out her hand again.
"Give me the phone."
Elena did.
Claire captured screenshots and emailed them to herself.
Another message arrived.
YOU HAVE NO IDEA WHAT YOU JUST WALKED AWAY FROM.
Elena read it twice.
Her fear changed shape.
"What does that mean?"
Claire's eyes remained on the phone.
"I don't know."
Then she looked at Margaret.
"But tomorrow morning, we're going to find out."
At 2:11 a.m., Elena woke because someone had slipped an envelope beneath their hotel room door.
There was no name written on it.
Inside was a photocopy of a document.
At the top were the words NOTICE OF SECURED INTEREST.
Below them was Margaret's address.
May you like
And at the bottom was Elena's signature.
A signature Elena had never written.
