Chapter 6: The Call He Made on His Way Out
He was gone within the hour.
He carried two bags to his car, made one trip back for a jacket, and on his way through the kitchen the second time he stopped at the counter and picked up his phone.
He looked at me while he dialed.
Not at my mother.
At me.
"Hey," he said into the phone.
"Yeah.
It happened.
Start the process." A pause.
"No, today.
I want it filed today."
He ended the call, pocketed the phone, and walked out.
The front door didn't slam.
That was almost worse — the quiet click of it.
I looked at my mother.
"What process?"
She shook her head.
She didn't know.
I found out two days later when a letter arrived from a law firm I didn't recognize — not the one whose letterhead had been on the property transfer notice, a different one.
The letter was addressed to my mother.
It stated that Ryan Calloway was initiating a claim for financial compensation related to services rendered, property improvements, and emotional damages, in the amount of forty-seven thousand dollars.
My mother sat at the kitchen table and read it twice and didn't say a word.
I took the letter from her hands, read it myself, and called the only lawyer I trusted — Diane Marsh, who had been my father's attorney for twenty years and who had handled his estate.
I'd spoken to her once on the phone from Germany after Dad passed, and she had been the kind of steady that made people feel less afraid.
She picked up on the second ring.
"Jessica.
I've been wondering when you'd call."
That stopped me.
"What do you mean?"
"I mean I've had some concerns about your mother's situation for a while.
I tried to reach her twice in the last two months.
She didn't return my calls."
I looked at my mother across the table.
"She didn't know to," I said.
"I thought as much." A pause.
"Tell me what you have."
I told her everything.
The withdrawal forms.
The signatures.
The property transfer document.
The civil court record.
The letter that had arrived that morning.
Diane was quiet through all of it.
I heard her writing.
"Okay," she said when I finished.
"First — do not respond to that letter.
Not a word, not a phone call, nothing.
Second — photograph every document you have and email them to me today.
Third—" She paused.
"Does your mother have a safe deposit box?"
"Yes.
At First Federal.
She and my dad kept it for the deed, the will, their insurance policies."
"Has Ryan ever accompanied your mother to that bank?"
My throat tightened.
"I don't know."
"Find out," Diane said.
"Today."
I ended the call and looked at my mother.
"Did Ryan ever go to the bank with you?"
She thought about it.
Her face changed.
"Once," she said.
"He drove me.
About two months ago.
I needed to get the insurance renewal from the box.
He waited in the lobby." She paused.
"He said he needed to use the restroom.
May you like
He was gone for maybe ten minutes."
I was already putting on my jacket.
