Chapter 9: The Morning It Broke Open
Patrick called at eight thirteen.
"The application is filed.
Judge Abernethy is reviewing it now.
Catherine's Edinburgh colleague retrieved the originals at seven.
They're in transit under legal seal." His voice had the particular edge of a man who had not slept and was not going to admit it.
"We have a hearing at eleven."
"What does Carver know?"
"His firm received notice forty minutes ago.
They'll be filing for an injunction within the hour."
"Can they get it before eleven?"
"They'll try.
I have someone watching the court listings." A brief pause.
"Ryan.
There's something else."
"Tell me."
"Carver filed a separate action this morning.
He's claiming that Daniel obtained the original documents through the coercion of a public official, and he's named you as a co-conspirator."
The kitchen went very quiet.
"He named me."
"As someone allegedly involved in directing Daniel's actions." Patrick's voice was level.
"It's designed to do one thing — put you on the defensive and make you a party to a crjminal investigation so that anything you say or do can be framed as self-interested."
"It's a threat."
"It's a move.
And we expected one like it." He didn't pause.
"Here's what you're going to do.
You're going to write down, in your own words, everything that has happened since you opened that wall.
Every conversation.
Every person.
Every detail.
Dated and signed.
I want it in my hands before ten."
"Done."
"And Ryan — don't speak to Carver.
Don't speak to anyone connected to him.
If someone calls you from a number you don't know, send it to me."
"He already sent a message last night.
Four words."
"Screenshot it and send it to me right now."
I did.
By nine thirty I had written eleven pages.
Emily read them over and added two paragraphs about the eight years — the letter from Daniel, the meetings she hadn't told me about, the moment six months ago when she had noticed the car outside our house for the third time in a week and understood for the first time what she might have walked us into.
She signed it without me asking.
At ten fifteen, Patrick called again.
"Carver's injunction was denied." He said it without ceremony, which was its own kind of satisfaction.
"The judge ruled that the public interest in the record outweighs the claimed privacy protections, given the documented financial benefit to a named attorney."
"Carver."
"Carver." A pause.
"We go at eleven."
I was in the car with Patrick by ten thirty.
Walter stayed with Mia and Lily.
Emily came with us.
She sat in the back seat without being asked.
Nobody said anything for most of the drive.
Then Emily said, quietly, to no one in particular: "I should have told him the day the letter came."
Patrick glanced in the mirror but said nothing.
I turned to look at her.
"Yeah," I said.
"You should have."
May you like
She nodded.
She already knew.
