“That’s not an answer.”
“No.”
He rubbed his face.
“Veronica and Mom kept arguing. Dad kept avoiding it. I kept working fourteen-hour days. Everybody started making temporary compromises.”
“Until Mom and Dad were sleeping beside a lawn mower?”
“The lawn mower isn’t there anymore.”
I stared at him.
Derek actually winced.
“Bad answer.”
“Very bad.”
Dad folded his arms.
“Keep going.”
Derek exhaled.
“I knew it was wrong.”
“Then why didn’t you stop it?”
“Because stopping it meant admitting the whole arrangement had become wrong.”
That answer, at least, sounded true.
He walked to a metal cabinet.
From the top drawer, he removed a folder.
“I was going to fix it this week.”
He handed it to Dad.
Inside was a bank statement.
Then another.
Then a cashier’s check.
Twenty-four thousand dollars.
Payable to Manuel and Carmen Ruiz.
Dad stared at it.
“I was short four thousand,” Derek said. “I expected another client payment Friday.”
