Chapter 10 - THE MOTEL
I did not go alone.
I told Ethan I would.
Then Detective Hale drove behind me in an unmarked sedan.
Nicole wanted to come.
I refused.
She hated me for it for about twelve minutes.
Then she hugged me so hard my ribs hurt.
“Don’t believe anything he says.”
I nodded.
But I already knew that was going to be difficult.
Ethan chose a motel near the interstate.
Of course he did.
A place with peeling paint, buzzing lights, and doors that opened directly onto the parking lot.
Room 17.
I knocked.
“Ethan?”
The door opened three inches.
He looked terrible.
Bruised face.
Bloodshot eyes.
Same clothes from the night before.
“Are you alone?”
“Yes.”
He looked past me.
“If I see police—”
“You won’t.”
A lie.
He let me in.
The room smelled like cigarettes and disinfectant.
The stolen envelope sat on the bed.
I stared at it.
“Give me that.”
“Sit down.”
“No.”
“Mom.”
“I said do not call me Mom.”
He flinched.
Good.
I pointed to the envelope.
“Give it to me.”
“You need to hear this.”
“I’ve heard enough.”
“Dad hated me.”
“That is not true.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I knew your father.”
“You knew the version he showed you.”
I laughed.
“So now everybody is fake except you?”
His jaw tightened.
“He tracked me.”
“What?”
“Dad tracked my bank accounts. My credit. Everything.”
“Because you stole from him.”
His face changed.
Gerald had been right.
Ethan knew Robert had discovered the theft.
“He told you?”
“Gerald did.”
Ethan looked toward the window.
“He never gave me a chance.”
“He gave you thousands of chances.”
“He always thought Nicole was smarter.”
“This is not about Nicole.”
“It was always about Nicole.”
There it was again.
The resentment.
Old.
Deep.
Probably fed for years by every birthday present he thought was unfair, every compliment she received, every time Robert told him to get serious.
Ethan paced.
“She got college paid for.”
“So did you.”
“She got graduate school.”
“You dropped out after one semester.”
“You always do that.”
“Do what?”
“Make it sound like every bad thing was my choice.”
I stared at him.
“Gambling with my retirement was your choice.”
“I was trying to save my company.”
“Forging my signature was your choice.”
“I panicked.”
“Taking a loan against my house was your choice.”
“I was going to fix it.”
“Humiliating me at my retirement dinner was your choice.”
His face hardened.
“You were supposed to take the blame.”
The words hung in the room.
He realized what he had said.
Too late.
I felt something settle inside me.
Not anger.
Clarity.
“You were supposed to take the blame.”
He looked away.
“I didn’t mean—”
“Yes, you did.”
“No.”
“That was the plan.”
I stepped closer.
“You knew the bank would discover the money missing eventually. So you wanted everybody to believe I was gambling before the investigation started.”
“It wasn’t like that.”
“It was exactly like that.”
I looked at the hidden button camera Hale had clipped inside my sweater.
I hoped it was catching every word.
Ethan sat on the bed.
His shoulders dropped.
“I needed time.”
“For what?”
“To win it back.”
I almost felt sorry for him.
Then I remembered the hotel picture.
“Cassandra.”
His expression tightened.
“Amber knows?”
“Everyone knows.”
He rubbed his face.
“She wasn’t my girlfriend.”
“Then what was she?”
“A broker.”
“For what?”
“Information.”
I frowned.
“What information?”
“Financial records. Identity profiles. People with assets.”
My stomach turned.
“The storage unit.”
He nodded.
“They sold information to gamblers who needed credit.”
“Illegal credit.”
“Yes.”
“And you gave them my information.”
He didn’t answer.
That was answer enough.
“How many people?”
“What?”
“How many people did you help them steal from?”
“I didn’t steal from anybody else.”
“How many?”
“I don’t know.”
“Ethan.”
“Maybe six.”
My mouth went dry.
“Six families?”
“Mom—”
“Do not.”
I could hardly breathe.
This was bigger than me.
He hadn’t fallen into a hole.
He had started digging holes under other people.
A knock sounded at the door.
Three slow taps.
Ethan froze.
“That’s not police.”
“How do you know?”
“Because police don’t knock like that.”
My pulse spiked.
Another knock.
A man’s voice.
“Ethan.”
His face went white.
“Bathroom.”
“What?”
“Mom, get in the bathroom.”
I stared at him.
“Who is that?”
“The person I really owe.”
The door handle moved.
Ethan grabbed my arm.
May you like
“Go!”
The door burst inward.
