He shook his head.
“I don’t know.”
“Who has access to my documents?”
He didn’t answer.
“Who?”
“Maybe Mom.”
I turned toward the door.
Margaret was standing there.
She had heard everything.
“Don’t look at me like that.”
I stared at her.
“Did you give Nathan copies of my financial information?”
“No.”
“Did you ever have access to my pay stubs?”
She hesitated.
“Once.”
“When?”
“When you were applying for the mortgage.”
“That was three years ago.”
“I didn’t use them.”
“Then who did?”
She shook her head.
“I don’t know.”
I looked back at Nathan.
He was staring at the floor.
“Did you apply for credit using my information?”
“No.”
“Did you give someone my information?”
“No.”
“Did Rachel have it?”
“No.”
I closed my eyes.
There were suddenly too many possibilities.
But one thing was certain.
I couldn’t trust anyone in that house.
