Chapter 2

At nine forty, the house was quiet except for rain. Renee sat on the edge of the bed with a towel around her wet hair. Paul stood at the dresser, the recorder in his palm. The red light had stopped blinking, but the device was warm.

“Where did she get it?” Renee asked.

“It’s a dictation recorder. She uses it for trust notes.” Paul’s voice was flat. “I’ve seen it on her desk.”

“She keeps it in her clutch at Founder’s Day?”

“Apparently.”

Renee held out her hand. Paul hesitated, then gave it to her. The plastic was cheap, black, with one small speaker and a row of buttons. She pressed play.

For a moment, only fabric rustled. Then Cece’s voice, close and clipped: “-scheduled for the thirtieth. Blue Heron wants the west grove cleared by the first of October. The survey stakes are already in.”

Renee’s stomach dropped.

Another voice, male, unfamiliar: “And the old man?”

“Gus signed the power of attorney. He doesn’t remember. He won’t remember. The deed is recorded, and Paul witnessed it.”

Renee looked at her husband. Paul had sat down on the edge of the bed, elbows on his knees, face in his hands.

The recording continued. Cece again: “The girl saw the surveyors. She told Renee. I don’t know what else she saw.”

“Do you want me to talk to her?”

“No.” Cece’s voice went cold. “The girl sees things. She’s the only loose end, and I’ll handle her before Gus can interfere.”

The recorder clicked off.

Renee realized she had stopped breathing. She pressed play again, listened to the same twenty-eight seconds, then once more. Blue Heron. West grove. The thirtieth. The girl sees things.

“Paul.”

He didn’t look up. “I didn’t know.”

“You witnessed a deed.”

“I signed papers for her. After the Hendricks deal fell apart. I was drinking. She said they were loan extensions.”

“Did you read them?”

“No.”

Renee wanted to hit him. She wanted to hold him. She did neither. She took out her phone and opened the voice memo app. “We need a copy.”

“Renee-”

“She threatened our daughter.” Renee pressed record and played the recorder again, holding her phone close to the speaker. The audio was tinny but clear. When it finished, she stopped the app and checked the file. Twenty-eight seconds. She emailed it to herself, then to her old law partner, then deleted the sent folder.

Paul watched her. “What are you doing?”

“Building a record.”

“She’s my mother.”

“She’s the woman who just humiliated Junie in front of the parish and threatened to handle her.” Renee’s voice shook. “You saw her face when that recorder fell. That wasn’t embarrassment. That was fear.”

Paul stood. He walked to the window and looked out at the rain. “If my signature is on a deed, I’m not just a witness. I’m involved.”

“Then we find out what you signed.”

He turned. His eyes were red. “And if I did sign it?”

“Then you tell the truth.” Renee put the recorder in her nightstand drawer and locked it with a tiny brass key. “And we pray the truth is enough.”

Paul didn’t answer. Outside, thunder rolled low over the bayou. Somewhere in the big house, Cece was probably already looking for her recorder.