Chapter 17: What He Said to His Mother

"On the stairs," Timothy said.

"With a water cup."

The bodyguard opened the car door, and I got in because a camera was six feet from my face.

The door shut, and the shouting went flat.

Timothy sat on the far side of the seat with his hands on his knees.

"Say what you think you heard," he said.

"You told your mother it's a contract and it ends when he's cured."

I kept my eyes on the back of the driver's head.

"Then you said that's all it is."

"I said it so she'd stop."

"Stop what?"

"Looking at you." He turned in the seat. "I've watched her for thirty-four years, Rosemary."

"And?"

"If she thinks I care, she finds the place it hurts and leans on it. The investigator, the Fund, the yard."

He drew a breath.

"If she thinks it's paper, she thinks she's already won, and she stops looking."

"She cancelled my sister's contracts this morning."

"Because the column made her think she was winning."

"That's your reason?" My voice had gone thin. "You told her what she wanted to hear, and she cut the yard anyway."

He closed his mouth.

"Which part was the lie?" I asked.

"What?"

"You said it ends when he's cured. That was your rule four, from the courthouse."

"Yes."

"Which part of what you told her wasn't true?"

His knee was an inch from mine on the seat. I moved mine away.

He saw it.

"I told you at the courthouse you'd leave when he was well," Timothy said slowly. "You didn't argue."

"I said fine."

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