Chapter 8 - The Photograph from Winter
Benjamin Price had been in our house before anyone mentioned a sale.
The photograph was dated December, months before Diane's company was formed.
I sent the unedited original to Ruth and resisted the urge to call Eric immediately.
Instead I searched our shared calendar for that date.
There was an entry labeled Foundation Inspection.
I'd been visiting my aunt in Savannah that weekend.
Eric had told me a contractor needed to check a settling porch.
The work had never happened.
When I asked him about it over breakfast, he didn't look surprised.
"Price was advising Mom about an investment," he said.
"In my house?"
"It wasn't serious then."
"So you admit you were discussing my property while I was away."
"You always make it sound sinister."
I watched him stir coffee he hadn't taken a sip of.
He wanted me angry, because anger gave him something to point at.
I refused to supply it.
Ruth filed for urgent protective relief concerning the disputed transfer and sought appropriate orders to prevent unauthorized removal of property.
She also referred the suspicious documents to the relevant authorities.
The first court appearance was set quickly, though it would not resolve the entire case.
Diane greeted the news by telling Eric I was destroying his future.
I heard every word through the hallway.
"She could end this with one signature," Diane hissed.
"She doesn't know everything," Eric said.
I stayed behind the door as my heartbeat accelerated.
"Then make sure she never finds the recording," Diane answered.
A floorboard creaked beneath me.
Their conversation stopped.
Eric emerged into the hall.
For a long second we stared at each other.
"What recording?" I asked.
He tried to smile.
"You misheard."
"Then what did I hear?"
Diane appeared beside him.
"Private business."
"About my house?"
She turned away.
I could have followed her and shouted until the walls shook.
Instead I went to my father's old desk and looked for the home security account.
He'd insisted every entrance be covered after a break-in years earlier.
The system was old, but its backup settings were still active.
In the archive, I found a file saved on the December weekend I'd been out of town.
Three voices drifted through the foyer speakers.
One was Eric's.
One was Diane's.
The third belonged to Benjamin Price.
May you like
Then Price said, clearly, "Without Megan's signature, none of this works."
