Chapter 7: Everything in the Box
The box was a standard banker's box, the kind used for files.
Becca pulled it out from under her bed and set it on the floor between them.
Neither of them opened it immediately.
They both stood looking at it the way you look at something when you already know it's going to be bad.
"Did she tell you anything about what was in it?" Lily asked.
"She said it was paperwork.
Insurance documents, she said." Becca's voice was careful.
"She said if anything ever happened, I should give it to a specific person.
Not Dad.
Not you.
A specific person."
"Who?"
"A man named Gregory Holt." Becca looked up.
"He's an attorney.
But not anyone Dad knows."
Lily crouched down and lifted the lid.
The box was full of manila folders.
Neat, labeled, organized — the kind of organization that takes time.
The kind that is not assembled in a hurry.
She pulled out the first folder.
It was labeled *Property — R.M.*
R.M.
Richard Mercer.
Her father.
Inside were photocopies.
Deeds.
Her father's name.
Their family home.
A second property — a rental house two towns over that Lily barely knew existed.
Both documents had amendment pages clipped to them.
Both amendment pages listed a second name on the title.
Diane's name.
"She had herself added to the deeds," Lily said.
Becca sat on the edge of the bed.
She said nothing.
Lily pulled the next folder.
*Bank — Joint.* Inside were twelve months of statements with certain lines highlighted in yellow marker.
Each highlighted line was a transfer.
Small ones at first.
Two hundred.
Five hundred.
Then larger.
Three thousand.
Eight thousand.
The forty thousand was near the end — the largest single transfer, circled in red pen by someone, possibly her father's accountant, possibly her father himself, which meant he had seen at least some of this before today.
"He already knew," Lily said.
"Some of it," Becca said quietly.
"He confronted her two months ago.
She talked him out of it.
Said it was for a home renovation project she was managing." She paused.
"He wanted to believe her."
Lily looked at the red circle.
At the date.
Six weeks ago.
Her father had confronted Diane two months ago and backed down.
And six weeks ago, Diane had made the largest transfer of all.
She had known she was running out of time, and she had taken what she could while she still had access.
Lily set the folder down.
She pulled the last folder from the box.
This one was not labeled.
She opened it.
Inside was a single photograph.
A man she didn't recognize — Derek Farrow, she assumed, from context — standing next to Diane at what appeared to be a hotel bar.
The photograph was recent.
She could tell by Diane's hair, which she'd changed four months ago.
Behind the photograph was a printed email chain.
She read the first line.
Then she read it again.
"Becca," she said.
"Did you know your mother was planning to file for divorce?"
Becca's head came up fast.
"This email is from Gregory Holt to your mother.
It's dated nine weeks ago." Lily held up the page.
"He's outlining the asset division strategy." She looked at Becca.
"She was going to file first.
She was going to claim the house and one of the bank accounts and the rental property as marital assets." She set the page down.
"And then she was going to move everything she could to Derek Farrow's account before the courts could freeze it."
The room was very quiet.
Becca stood up slowly from the bed.
"She left the box here," she said.
"Under my bed."
"Yes."
"She packed her bag and left.
But she left the box."
"Yes."
"Why would she—" Becca stopped.
She looked at the box.
At the folders spread across the floor.
Then her face changed.
"She thought I would protect it," Becca said.
"She thought I would hide it for her.
She thought that when the time came, I would hand it to Gregory Holt like she told me to."
Lily looked at her stepsister.
May you like
Becca looked back.
"I'm going to get your father," Becca said.
