“Ask your brother why your father closed the Lake Mercer account.”
Silence.
The message clicked off.
Detective Ruiz turned toward Liam.
I did too.
My brother had gone pale.
“Liam?”
He stood perfectly still.
“What’s the Lake Mercer account?”
He did not answer.
My hand slowly slipped from the phone.
“Liam.”
He looked at me.
And for the first time since he walked into my hospital room, my brother looked afraid of me.
Not for me.
Of me.
“I need to explain something,” he said.
The rain struck the windows harder.
Detective Ruiz moved between us.
“No,” she said. “First, you tell me whether Lake Mercer is a person, a company, or a financial account.”
Liam ran both hands through his hair.
“It was a bank account.”
“Your father’s?”
“Yes.”
Mine and Liam’s father, Arthur Carter, had been dead for nine years.
In my memory, he existed in fragments.
