Chapter 31 #2
Tean woke his phone. He typed in the information he remembered for Salvation Coaching LLC and began the search.
And there it was.
Jem and Brigitte were still talking about Stephen. About how Gerald had wanted him to handle the money.
“It was you,” Tean said. The words cut through their conversation. “He was splitting the take with you.”
Brigitte stared at him. Her face was soft with confusion, but her eyes were hard. “What?”
“You and Stephen were working together. The money he stole from those people, you got half of it.”
Jem raised a hand like he might scratch his beard, but he winced and lowered his arm again. He opened his mouth and shut it again.
“That’s ridiculous,” Brigitte said. “I wouldn’t do that. I loved Gerald. He provided for our family. I have everything I need. Why would I steal from him?”
It was too many reactions strung together. Too much of a response. She must have realized it because it looked like it took an effort for her to shut her mouth.
“Because you’re smart,” Tean said. “Because you’re a survivor. Because you know that life isn’t always good or easy, so you have a backup plan, just in case.”
She shook her head. Laughed a little. Put her fingers to her temple. “I’m sorry, I can’t believe I’m hearing this.”
“Your name is on the paperwork for the LLC. That was a mistake. You should have left your name off it. Or did Stephen insist? Was that one of the conditions?”
“What paperwork? I don’t know anything about any paperwork.” But she said almost immediately, “I had to sign so many things. You have to understand we trusted Stephen. Our attorney reviewed everything. He told me to sign.”
“No, that’s not going to work.”
“Hold on,” Jem said. “Everybody needs to take a breath. Tean, let me see that. Mom, what do you mean he made you sign a lot of papers?”
“That was his job.” She sounded like she was on the brink of tears, and she touched the corners of her eyes. “Gerald hired him to help with this kind of thing. I had to sign lots of things; I tried to read them, but I didn’t know what they all said.”
“It’s fine,” Jem said. “It’s okay. If that’s all it was, then we’ll figure it out.”
“That’s not what it was,” Tean said. “She’s lying.”
“Can you cool it for five seconds?” To Brigitte, he said, “Mom, what’s the name of the lawyer?”
“She can call whoever she wants because it doesn’t matter. She’s on the paperwork for the LLC. From the LLC, we’ll be able to find the bank accounts. From there, we can track the transfers. And one of those accounts will be in her name. And they’ll have her signature all over the documents.”
“But he made me sign—”
“And they’ll have more transfers, because she’ll have funneled it into other accounts.”
To Jem, tears running down her cheeks, she said, “I don’t know why he’s doing this to me.”
“Tean, can you cut it out?”
“They’ll have her on camera pulling it out in cash.”
That struck home. For a moment, the weeping, the vulnerability, the frightened woman—they all disappeared. The one who stared out at Tean now was hard, pinched, all claws and bared teeth.
And then she was trying to catch her tears again, sniffling as she said, “Jeremiah, it doesn’t make any sense. Why would I do this? Why would I hurt my own family?”
“Because Gerald believed people needed to earn their way,” Tean said. He realized he was smiling—a nasty razoring expression that cut across his mouth. He wasn’t sure why. “And Gerald believed men should be in charge of the finances. That’s what he told us the first time we met him, remember?”
Jem was staring at Tean. The wind- and snow-burn had left patches of raw skin, but everywhere else he was white.
“But I didn’t even know him,” Brigitte was saying. “Gerald hired him—”
“You had plenty of time together to figure it out,” Tean said.
“That was part of it, wasn’t it? You wanted Stephen.
You needed Gerald. Wouldn’t it be perfect if you could have both?
Stephen is young and handsome. Gerald was old and tired.
But Gerald had all the money. It was the perfect plan until Sawyer tipped Gerald off that Stephen wasn’t who he said he was.
What happened? Gerald came to you and told you it was over?
Did he say you were getting a divorce? And then you decided you didn’t want to lose out on all that money, so you and Stephen had to get rid of Gerald before he could ruin everything. ”
“Tean, my God,” Jem barked.
“I wasn’t sleeping with Stephen!”
The words were cold and clear and, Tean thought with a wave of surprise, the first honest thing he thought he’d ever heard from her.
Jem started pushing himself up from the chair. “We believe you,” Jem said. “But Mom, something weird is going on, and if you can tell us anything, you need to do it right now.”
At another time, in another place, it might have sounded insistent—maybe even urgent. Right then, though, Jem spoke the words as though he were trying not to bother her.
Brigitte shook her head, fighting tears again. But when Jem blew out a breath and glanced away, those same sharp eyes cut toward Tean again.
Those same sharp eyes.
A muddled blue that, in the right light, was almost gray.
Tean had seen those eyes before. Jem had those eyes. Maeve had those eyes. Milo had those eyes.
The alarm at the back of his head grew louder.
He had seen those eyes before.
The words slipped out of him: “He’s your son.”
Jem raised his eyebrows. “What?”
Stop, Tean told himself. Think.
But Jem was already saying to Brigitte, “I know this was a hard conversation. I’m sorry we had to do this.” And just like that, it was slipping away. Jem was saying, “We’re going to keep looking for Maeve and Milo—”
She was going to get away with it. After everything she’d done to Jem—after all the ways she’d ruined his life, after abandoning him, after stealing from him, after destroying his chance at a happy future—she was going to get away with it.
The room seemed to get smaller. Tean was moving too, moving farther and farther back inside his head until he was at the end of a long room. His voice, when he spoke, sounded like it was already an echo.
“He’s your son.”
Jem said, “Give it a break.”
“Of course he’s my son,” Brigitte said. “And I love him. But it doesn’t change the fact that I can’t help you. I didn’t have anything to do with stealing that money, and I don’t know what else I’m supposed to tell you.”
“Stephen,” Tean said. “Stephen’s your son.”
The truth froze her face—only for a moment, but long enough to reveal the helplessness, the fear, the desperation. And then she was shaking her head, opening her mouth, letting out a little laugh.
“He is,” Tean said. “I should have seen it right away. The same eyes. He’s blond, too, although a bit darker. The way he moves. The way he talks. The way he lies. You were so insistent that you weren’t sleeping with him. Of course you weren’t sleeping with him; he’s your son.”
Brigitte took a step back. She folded one arm across her stomach. “That’s ridiculous. You’re making this up.”
“I didn’t understand why you would help him steal money from Gerald unless you were sleeping together.
There had to be some sort of reason you’d trust him—or at least some sort of reason you’d work with him.
And you were spending so much time together, it was natural to assume the relationship was sexual. ”
“He’s not my son. I don’t even know him. Jeremiah, he’s making it up.”
“But that’s the only explanation. That’s why Gerald would hire him, when Stephen couldn’t pass a simple background check.
It took Sawyer a day to figure out that Stephen was lying.
A day to learn that Stephen Anderson didn’t exist except on a few pieces of paper.
If Sawyer could figure it out, Gerald could too.
But he didn’t bother to check Stephen’s credentials, did he?
He didn’t need to. This was your son. And if one of your sons needed help, well, Gerald would be happy to provide—but they had to work for the money.
Did Gerald know that Stephen was telling everyone that Gerald had been his mission president?
Did he know about the story Stephen concocted about how Gerald cured him?
” Only silence. “How long did it take you and Stephen to come up with the plan? Was it after he started working with you? Or had you planned the whole thing from the beginning, and that’s why you decided to bring Stephen into this? ”
“This is outrageous.” But she took another step back, and now she hugged herself with both arms. “I can’t believe I’m hearing this. Jeremiah, he’s out of his mind.”
“Is he right?” Jem asked.
“I don’t know where he came up with this.”
“Is he right? Is Stephen your son?”
“Jeremiah—”
“Don’t call me that!” In the wake of the shout, the only sound was Jem’s ragged breathing. “Tell me.”
Brigitte blinked, and tears fell down her cheeks. “He’s not my son.”
But there was no force behind the words, and she turned away.
Jem steepled his hands over his mouth and nose. He took more of those ragged breaths. And then he bent at the waist, hands on his knees, and went silent.
That earlier sense of distance and displacement began to collapse. The world rushed back toward Tean, coming to meet him. He could see Jem, really see him. He blurted, “Jem, it’s okay.”
“Oh my God,” Jem said. The words were compressed, and they sounded like they came from high in his chest. “Oh my fucking God.”
“We’ll figure it out.”
“We’ll figure it out?” Somehow, Jem straightened.
He took a step. “How in the fuck—” He took another step.
He bumped into the coffee table, and it slid an inch, and Jem hobbled forward without slowing.
His hip caught one of the armchairs. He waved a hand, almost like he was apologizing.
He always knows where he’s going, Tean thought.
He can always see everything. Jem took one more shuffling step, and then he was free of the cluster of furniture.
Without looking back, he lurched toward the door. “I can’t do this.”
Brigitte stared at Tean. She was pale. She was crying again. She’d bitten her lip and marred her lipstick.
“Get out,” she whispered.
Tean went out into the light and hurried after Jem.