Chapter 2 - The Envelope Behind the Mirror
I shoved the prepaid phone beneath a folded towel exactly as the bathroom door swung inward.
Garrick filled the doorway.
“Five minutes,” he said. “I meant five.”
I forced my face blank. “I’m changing the dressing that your mother threw in the garbage.”
His jaw tightened.
“Miriam is trying to help you.”
“By contaminating my medical supplies?”
“By stopping this spiral.”
“What spiral?”
“You barely get out of bed. You don’t cook. You don’t clean. You take pills.”
“I had surgery fourteen days ago.”
“Exactly. Fourteen days.” He pointed toward the bedroom. “My mother had a hysterectomy and hosted Thanksgiving eleven days later.”
I stared at him. “Congratulations to your mother.”
His eyes narrowed.
I knew that look. A year earlier, it had preceded him squeezing my wrist until I dropped a coffee mug. Two years earlier, it had preceded him ripping the router from the wall because I had emailed Nolan.
But he didn’t touch me.
Maybe the surgical drains made even Garrick understand that bruises would be hard to explain.
“You have ten minutes,” he said, and walked away.
I waited until his footsteps disappeared.
Then I grabbed the hidden phone.
Nolan was still on the line.
“You heard?” I whispered.
“Every word.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Stop apologizing.” His voice was clipped now, controlled. “Can you lock the door again?”
“Yes.”
“Do it.”
I turned the lock.
“Now the medicine cabinet. Bottom shelf.”
Our medicine cabinet was built into the wall behind the mirror. I removed sunscreen, toothpaste, Garrick’s expensive shaving cream. The bottom glass shelf lifted out.
Behind it, taped to the metal backing, was a thin waterproof envelope.
My name was written across the front.
LENA — ONLY OPEN IF YOU ARE READY TO LEAVE.
I stopped breathing.
“Nolan.”
“I know.”
“How did you get in here?”
“Dad’s old key.”
“Dad never had a key to this house.”
“He did.”
My fingers went numb.
“What is in the envelope?”
“Evidence.”
“Of what?”
“Your husband lying to you for six years.”
I opened it.
Inside were copies of bank statements, a deed, a life insurance document, and three photographs.
The first photograph showed Garrick outside a downtown hotel with a brunette woman I recognized from Miriam’s church.
Rebecca Dane.
The church treasurer.
The second showed them kissing.
The third showed Garrick entering a medical office with a man I did not know.
My vision blurred.
“No.”
“I’m sorry.”
I put the photographs down and unfolded the deed.
The address was ours.
The owner was not Garrick Vale.
It was MERCER FAMILY HOLDINGS, LLC.
“What is this?”
“Dad bought the house before you married Garrick.”
“No. Garrick bought it. His company gave him the down payment.”
“That’s what Garrick told you.”
I sank onto the closed toilet lid.
Nolan continued. “Dad didn’t trust him. He structured the purchase through the family company. You inherited Dad’s controlling interest after he died.”
“I signed documents at the funeral.”
“You signed what Garrick told you were probate acknowledgments.”
“Yes.”
“One of them was a voting proxy. Another gave Garrick management authority over your shares.”
My stomach turned.
“He said it was temporary.”
“It wasn’t.”
I stared at the life insurance policy.
Insured: Lena Mercer Vale.
Benefit: $2,000,000.
Primary beneficiary: Garrick Vale.
Date issued: eight months earlier.
My signature appeared at the bottom.
I had never seen it.
“That isn’t my signature.”
“I know.”
My heartbeat kicked hard enough to make my chest hurt.
“Nolan, what medical office is in the picture?”
He exhaled.
“That’s what I’m still trying to figure out.”
“Why were you investigating Garrick?”
“Because Dad asked me to.”
I almost dropped the phone.
“Our father has been dead five years.”
“He asked me before he died.”
“What did he say?”
“That if anything happened to him, I was supposed to make sure Garrick never controlled you or the company.”
I gripped the edge of the counter.
“Anything happened to him? Dad had a heart attack.”
“That’s what the death certificate says.”
The room tilted.
“Nolan.”
“I’m not saying Garrick killed Dad.”
“But you think something is wrong.”
“I think Dad discovered Garrick had been moving money through accounts connected to Miriam’s church. Three days later, he died.”
I closed my eyes.
Outside, the lawn mower engine roared.
Garrick was starting it for me.
“Nolan, where are you?”
“Twenty minutes away.”
“You said you were in Houston.”
“I was already driving when you called.”
“Why?”
A pause.
“Because this morning I got an alert from Dad’s old corporate account. Garrick tried to transfer the house.”
“To who?”
“Rebecca Dane.”
My mouth went dry.
The church treasurer.
The woman in the photograph.
His mistress.
There was pounding on the bathroom door.
“Lena!” Miriam shouted. “This tantrum is over.”
I folded the documents back into the envelope.
“What do I do?”
“Take the envelope. Take your identification. Take nothing else unless it’s within reach.”
“I’m in a robe.”
“Then leave in a robe.”
“I can’t just walk out.”
“Yes, you can.”
The master key scraped in the lock.
“Nolan—”
“I’m turning onto your street.”
I stared at the door.
“Do not let Garrick put you in a car,” my brother said. “Do not eat or drink anything Miriam gives you. And if you start feeling dizzy, tell me immediately.”
The door opened.
Miriam entered first.
Behind her, Garrick held my sneakers.
“Put these on,” he said.
I slipped the envelope beneath my robe.
Miriam pointed toward the hall.
“Outside. Now.”
Then a car horn sounded from the front driveway.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
Garrick’s face changed.
He walked to the front window and pulled back the curtain.
“What the hell is he doing here?”
I heard a car door slam.
Then another.
Miriam’s face went pale.
That frightened me more than Garrick’s anger.
Because Miriam was not surprised to see my brother.
She was afraid of him.
A heavy knock shook the front door.
“Nolan Mercer,” my brother called from the porch. “Open the door, Garrick.”
Garrick looked at me.
“What did you do?”
May you like
For the first time in six years, I smiled at my husband without trying to make him happy.
“I made one phone call.”
