Chapter 21: Go Ahead

Shelby was waiting in my foyer when I got back from the yard.

I had texted the agent from the truck: the drivers' reserve showed zero, and I wanted to know where four million dollars had gone.

No answer yet.

My father had driven her over in his old sedan.

He sat on the hall bench, pretending to read a newspaper.

The doorman had let them in. He had said, "Mr. Stannard," twice, with real respect.

She stood by the wall under the ceiling camera, in a gray cardigan Douglas's housekeeper had lent her.

Her lip was healing. The bruise on her cheek had gone yellow at the edges.

"I need five minutes," she said.

"Take ten."

"Not in front of him."

"I'm right here," my father said without lowering the paper.

"Dad."

"I'm reading about the weather."

"You are reading it upside down."

He turned the paper around and went into the kitchen.

I heard the kettle go on.

Shelby looked down.

"I signed with the U.S. Attorney this morning," she said. "I plead to one count of conspiracy. I testify against him. I pay back the fifty thousand."

"That's a lot."

"It's less than I deserve." She looked at her hands. "The agent says the judge will probably give me probation if I tell the truth. I will."

"Good."

"There's something else I have to do first."

She lifted her chin.

I knew what she was going to say a second before she said it.

"Hit me," she said.

"No."

"Please. I mean it. I've been waiting four days for somebody to."

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