Chapter 17: Security

Phoebe's POV

My lawyer read the threat letter standing up and laughed once.

"The file was in a company cabinet, and you are the company's controller," she said. "He wants you scared. Don't give him that."

She had already filed a freeze on the account ending 4417.

I went from her office to my father's condo in Worthington, because I had one more person to hear.

He answered the door in a cardigan, with a crossword folded in his hand.

"Phoebe." His whole face lifted. "Sweetheart. Have you come to be big about this?"

"I came to ask you three questions," I said. "Then I'll go."

He let me in.

The condo smelled of aftershave and toast.

There was a new leather recliner by the window, and a flat television bigger than my mother's refrigerator.

I put my phone on the arm of the couch and pressed record, and I didn't hide it.

"I'm recording this," I said.

"Is that necessary?"

"Yes."

He sat down slowly in the recliner and smoothed his cardigan.

"First question," I said. "When did Bethany tell you the baby might not be Graeme's?"

"I don't know what you mean."

"She told me she said so in August."

"Bethany gets confused."

"Dad."

He looked at the television, which was off.

"She said there was a boy," my father said. "From before. I told her not to be stupid."

"Why?"

"Because a girl on her own needs security. Graeme had it. The boy had a truck."