Chapter 5: The Son Who Knew Too Much
I made Garrett come to the house.
I wasn't going to him.
He arrived at seven in the evening, after Lily was in bed.
He stood in the doorway of the kitchen looking like a man who hadn't slept either, and I pointed at the chair across from me and said nothing until he sat down.
"Talk," I said.
He put both hands flat on the table.
"My mother acted on her own.
I didn't know she was going to do any of that.
The chain — Nora, I didn't know about the chain.
I was inside, I thought Lily was with her cousins—"
"You saw me through the window," I said.
"You looked away."
His mouth closed.
"You saw me on my knees on that porch and you looked away.
So don't tell me what you didn't know."
He was quiet for a moment.
"You're right," he said.
"I saw you.
I should have come out."
"Why didn't you?"
"Because I was afraid of what you were about to find out."
I folded my hands.
"Tell me about Raymond Cole."
He exhaled.
"My mother told me three months ago.
She sat me down and said she had something to confess before she died — her words, not mine, she's not sick, she just talks that way — and she told me that my father wasn't my father.
That she'd had a relationship with a man named Raymond Cole in 1971 and that I was the result."
"Did she have proof?"
"She showed me a test.
I don't know if it was the same one she showed you.
She said she'd had it done privately."
"Did you verify it?"
He hesitated.
"No."
"Garrett.
Did you verify it."
"No," he said again, quieter.
"I believed her.
She was crying.
I'd never seen her cry before."
I thought about the lab name Paula had found.
The complaints.
The falsified results.
"Your mother may have shown you a document that isn't real," I said.
He looked up.
"I had the document she gave me yesterday checked.
The lab has a record of producing false results.
Someone paid for that paper, Garrett.
The question is why."
"She wouldn't—" He stopped.
Started again.
"Why would she lie about something like that?"
"Because your father's estate hasn't closed.
Because there are three properties and a business and three sons fighting over the distribution.
And because if she can establish that you have no Whitmore blood, and that Lily has no Whitmore blood, then your share — and Lily's potential standing as a grandchild — disappears."
The color left his face for the second time in two days.
"Who benefits?" I said.
"If your share of the estate goes away, who gets more?"
He didn't answer.
But I watched his eyes and I saw the moment he arrived at the same name I had.
"Your brother," I said.
"Which one?"
"Martin," he said.
It came out like something he'd been holding for a long time.
"Martin has been pushing the lawyers to close the estate for four months.
He keeps saying there are irregularities.
He hired his own appraiser for the land.
He—" Garrett pressed his hand over his mouth for a moment.
"He and my mother have always been close.
She would do anything for him."
"Has he spoken to you since your father died?"
"Twice.
Both times about the estate.
Both times he told me I should consider taking a cash settlement instead of my share of the properties."
"And you said?"
"I said no."
I stood up and went to the counter and poured two glasses of water.
I set one in front of him.
"I need you to understand something," I said.
"I am not doing this for you.
I am doing this for Lily.
Whatever happens between us — that is a separate conversation.
But your daughter is not going to be erased from her grandfather's family by a document someone bought from a crooked lab."
Garrett looked at the glass of water.
He didn't pick it up.
"What do you need from me?" he said.
"I need you to get me everything Martin has sent you.
Every email.
Every letter from his attorney.
Every text." I sat back down.
"And I need you to find out whether your mother has had any contact with the lab that produced that document."
"How am I supposed to find that out?"
"She's your mother," I said.
"You'll find a way."
He nodded slowly.
Then he said, "Nora.
I'm sorry.
For the window.
For the three months.
For all of it."
I looked at him for a moment.
"I know," I said.
"But sorry doesn't put Lily back on the right side of that door.
Evidence does."
He left at eight-thirty.
I locked the door behind him and stood in the hallway.
Then my phone rang.
Unknown number.
I almost didn't answer.
"Mrs.
Whitmore?" A man's voice.
Older.
Careful.
"Yes."
"My name is Raymond Cole," he said.
"I think we need to meet.
May you like
I know what Dora has been telling people about me.
And most of it isn't true."
