two miles east.
Linda nodded.
“The developer kept negotiating afterward.”
“With my father?”
“With someone.”
“Who?”
“I don’t know.”
“Trish?”
“She didn’t live here then.”
“What do the emails say?”
Linda glanced toward her Lexus.
“I printed them.”
“Where?”
“At home.”
“Bring them to Rachel.”
She grabbed my arm.
“Don’t tell Trish I came here.”
I looked down at her hand.
She released me.
“Why?”
“Because she removed me from the financial committee last night.”
“Why?”
“I questioned some transfers.”
“What transfers?”
Her lips pressed together.
Then she shook her head.
“I shouldn’t have come.”
She turned.
“Linda.”
She stopped.
“You came because you’re scared.”
No answer.
“Decide whether you’re more scared of Trish or what happens if you keep hiding things.”
She got into her car.
Drove away.
Rachel arrived twenty minutes later.
I told her everything.
She immediately called Linda.
No answer.
Again.
Voicemail.
