Chapter 11: The Wire

I woke up to the smell of coffee and the sound of someone clanging a pan.

Ingrid stood at the hot plate in my shirt, her braid still loose, frying eggs in a skillet.

"The money came back," I said.

"I saw the phone light up at three." She slid an egg onto a plate. "Eat."

"Forty-one thousand. All of it. No message."

"People who return money without a message want credit for it later."

She was right.

By eight, Hattie had called twice and texted a link.

It was Brooke's page.

She had posted a photo of herself on a porch swing, hair down, no makeup.

Her wrist was in the brace and she held a mug in her good hand.

The caption read: "Despite everything, I returned every penny to Finbar this morning.

"I only want peace for both our families. Please be kind to Hattie. She is hurting too."

There were eleven thousand likes already.

The top comment said: "This woman is a saint."

I put the phone down on the table, very carefully.

"She stole it," I said. "She gave it back, and now she's the generous one."

"Yes."

"And she wrote 'please be kind to Hattie,' like Hattie needs her to be kind."

"Yes."

"She's turned herself into the victim twice in one week."

"Three times," Ingrid said. "You forgot the dock."

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