Chapter 18: Mother and Daughter

I looked at the pen in his hand and at the page beside it, and I did not take either.

"I only sign what I've audited," I said.

"Of course, sweetheart. It's a small page. A formality."

"Where is my mother?"

"Somewhere quiet, with good doctors."

"Where?"

He smiled gently.

"Sign, and I'll drive you there myself."

Anson moved, and I caught his sleeve without looking away from my father.

"You opened an account in my name the week I vanished," I said. "You've drawn on it every quarter for twenty-five years."

"I don't know what you mean."

"You do."

I took my phone out and held it up.

"Every page of that file is already on three phones and in Dot's email."

"If anything happens to me or my mother, it goes to the newspapers and the state attorney."

His smile did not move, but the pen turned once between his fingers.

"Abigail. You've been through so much, and you're tired."

"Abby."

"Abby," he said, softly. "Visiting hours at Lakeview end at six."

He tucked the page in his pocket and walked out with his driver, whistling.

The bank manager did not meet my eyes as we passed.

The butler heard the address from the doorman, who had heard it from the driver, and we were in Anson's car by five.

Lakeview was a pale stone house behind a gate, in the hills outside Greenwich.

A woman at the desk smiled at us.

"Family visits are by appointment only, I'm afraid. Mr. Whitcroft has requested no visitors."

"I'm her daughter," I said.

"I'm sorry, dear. He's the legal guardian during her treatment."

Dot put both elbows on the counter.

"Hi. Before we go any further, I need to talk to someone about your invoice."

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