Chapter 5

Junie waited until her mother came upstairs. She had been sitting on the window seat in her room, knees drawn up, the rain streaking the glass behind her. Her chin throbbed. Grandma Cece had called her a liar. Dad had looked like he wanted to disappear. Mom had that tight, quiet face she got when she was figuring something out.

“I have something,” Junie said.

Renee closed the door. “What is it?”

Junie slid off the window seat and went to her backpack. She unzipped the front pocket and took out a small brass tag, stamped with black letters: BH-7. She had found it in the west grove six weeks ago, half-buried in the mud near a blue-and-white stake. She had put it in her lunchbox because it looked like treasure. Then she had forgotten it until Grandma Cece started acting so strange.

“I didn’t make it up,” Junie said. “The white truck was there. Two men. One had a clipboard. They were putting these tags in the ground.”

Renee took the tag. Her fingers were careful. “Why didn’t you show me before?”

“I told you. You said it was pipeline work.”

Renee’s eyes filled. “I’m sorry, baby. I should have listened.”

“Are you going to give it to Grandma?”

“No.” Renee put the tag in her pocket. “I’m going to use it to prove you’re telling the truth.”

Junie wanted to believe her. But she had seen how grown-ups worked. They said things and then they did other things. Her dad had promised to read her a story three nights in a row and hadn’t. Grandma Cece had promised she could read the blessing and then tore it out of her hands. Even Grandpa Gus, who loved her, had been taken away to his room and she wasn’t allowed to see him.

“Can I see Grandpa?” Junie asked.

“Not yet.”

“Why?”

“Because Cece has doctors saying he’s confused.”

“He’s not confused.”

Renee knelt so they were eye to eye. “I know. But we have to prove it. And we have to be careful. Do you understand?”

Junie nodded. She understood careful. She had been careful at Founder’s Day, holding the scroll the way Grandpa showed her, standing straight, waiting for her name. It hadn’t saved her.

Later that afternoon, a black sedan followed them home from the grocery store. At first Renee thought it was coincidence. Then it parked across the street and stayed. A man in a baseball cap sat behind the wheel, not reading, not on his phone, just watching.

Renee called her old law partner, Marianne Thibodeaux, from the pantry. “Cece has people following us.”

“That’s intimidation. Document it.”

“She’s filing for guardianship. She’s threatening custody.”

“Then we file opposition. We need evidence, Renee. Not just a recording and a tag. We need to tie the tag to Blue Heron and the deed to Gus’s signature. And we need to deal with Paul’s witness signature.”

“I know.”

“If Paul signed that deed, he’s exposed. You can’t protect him and use him at the same time.”

Renee closed her eyes. “I know.”

That night, Junie heard her parents arguing in low voices through the wall. She couldn’t make out the words, but she heard her mother say “your mother” and her father say “I didn’t know.” She pulled her blanket up to her chin and looked at the empty space on her nightstand where the brass tag used to sit. She had given it away. She hoped it was enough.