“He has this notebook on his desk, and there was a page ripped out, but I could see the outline of words, so I did that thing where you use the side of a pencil to scratch the next page and find out what was on it.” She holds up her phone and shows me a picture of the paper. “I took the actual page, too, but I figured I’d want photographic evidence. I’m crossing my fingers that once we get into his cloud, we’ll get some answers.”
“As long as he wasn’t smart enough to delete all the trails.”
“He’s smart enough; I’m just not sure he’d take the time to do it.”
Teagan and I grab my laptop and flip it open. We’ll only have three tries before we’re locked out, so we need to be smart about it.
“I think that’s a hashtag after his name.” Teagan points to what looks like a bunch of scratches.
“He really has the worst penmanship, doesn’t he?”
“Yup. And who uses their own name as their password? How stupid is that? And is the e backward?”
“I think it’s a three?”
“Oh! Good call. Okay. So his name is the password, plus a hashtag, and then what?”
“I’d say number one, but it doesn’t look like that’s what it is since it’s curved and not straight.”
“Unless he wrote out the number one?”
“Ooooh. That would be smart. Should we try it?”
I type in the password and cross my fingers as I hit enter. But I get the red “Wrong Password” message.
“Shit. We have two more tries. Are we sure that looks like a zero? Or an o?”
“I think so. God, we need to not get this wrong.” Teagan taps her lip. “I have it! What’s his favorite movie of all time?”
“Uh, I have no idea.”
“He loves James Bond movies. He’s dressed up as him every single year at Halloween since he was a teenager.”
“All he does is wear a suit, though.”
“Because it’s easy, but also because he loves those movies. Try double oh seven.”
“You’re sure about this?”
“Positive. Just try it.”
“You try it.” I shift the computer toward her, and she types in the password.
We cross our fingers and hold our breath as she hits the enter button.
And this time we don’t get the error message.
We both shout obscenities.
“Oh my God, we’re in!”
An hour later, Teagan and I have found more than enough evidence to point all the fingers back at my brother. Somehow he managed to get the passwords to my bank accounts and forged a bunch of signatures. He actually was pretty good at doing it; I even believe that some of the paperwork I’ve seen had my signature.
“Who the hell takes this many dick pics? And who is he sending them to?” Teagan holds her hand up in front of the screen to block yet another image of our brother’s penis. There are many on the cloud.
“Maybe it’s his version of flirting?”
“How are we related to him?” Teagan shakes her head. “Dad is going to be so disappointed.”
I hadn’t stopped to think about how Dad will react to this whole thing. Having someone steal $3 million from your late wife’s foundation is bad enough, but finding out that it’s your own son would be a real mindfuck. “How do you want to do this? Should we tell Dad before we pass this information over?”
Teagan taps her lip and stays silent for a few seconds before she answers. “I think we call a family meeting, but we don’t give Bradley time to make an escape. Right now he must think he’s pulling one over on us, so we don’t want to give him the benefit of a heads-up. And the sooner we do it, the better.” She flops back on the couch. “I can’t believe we have to take our own brother down. How much does this suck?”
“A lot.”
I haven’t always been my brother’s biggest fan, but finding out that he’s the reason for everything that our family is dealing with takes my opinion of him to a new low.
Half an hour and a short conversation with Dillion later, in which I tell her I have to go to the city to deal with a family issue and that I’ll fill her in on everything when I get back, Teagan and I are headed to Chicago, with me in the driver’s seat.
The landscape changes from tree-lined highways to the bustle of a busy freeway.
“Do you miss this?” Teagan asks as we get closer to our exit.
My dad lives outside the city in a massive two-story home. Teagan still lives in the main house, but Bradley took over the pool house a few years ago. I was the only one who moved out and got my own place. I don’t think Teagan necessarily wants to stay in the house; it’s more that she doesn’t want to leave our dad alone in a huge house that’s full of memories of our mother.
“Honestly? The only thing I miss about being here is you.”
She nods. “I can see that. Pearl Lake is full of such good memories and great people.”
“It really is.” I pull off the freeway and drive down familiar streets, back to the house I grew up in. It’s been months since I’ve been home, and I realize I don’t miss this place at all. In fact, as soon as I pull into the driveway, I can feel the shackles of a past none of us can ever seem to escape locking me back in.
“You ready to do this?” I ask Teagan as I park beside my brother’s ostentatious car.
“As ready as I can be. You?”
“Same.”
We both sigh and get out of the car, closing our doors in tandem. We fall into step beside each other. The front door is huge and black with a wrought iron design set in the center. The redbrick face of the house is elegant and gorgeous, but even from the outside, I know it’s a pretty shell without a heart.
She punches in the code and lets herself in. “Dad?”
“I’m in my office!”
We find him sitting behind his desk, bifocals halfway down his nose, a stack of papers in front of him, his computer screen glowing. Over the years his shoulders have started to round from all the time he spends sitting behind a desk. It’s nine o’clock and still he’s working, and it’s exactly what he’ll do until he’s too tired to keep his eyes open. Despite the late hour, and the fact that he’s in his own house, he’s still wearing a suit. His salt-and-pepper hair is cut short and styled neatly. He looks put together, but it’s a veneer. I can see myself in him, and what my future might look like if I ever choose to follow in his footsteps—a sad, lonely man.
He smiles when I appear behind Teagan. “Donovan! I didn’t know you were here. It’s great to have you home. Are you staying for a while?” He stands and walks around his desk, pulling me into a hug.
“Uh, probably not. Is Bradley home?”
“I think so. Is everything okay?” His brow furrows, and he looks from me to Teagan and back again. “Did something happen?”
“Yeah, and I don’t think you’re going to be particularly happy about it.”
Teagan and I sit him down and show him what we’ve found. The offshore accounts set up in my name, half the money from the foundation already gone, frittered away in a matter of months. The forged signatures, the fraudulent accounts.
“How do you want to handle this, Dad?” Teagan asks softly.
He leans back in his chair and scrubs a palm over his face. This conversation seems to have aged him five years in the span of half an hour. It can’t be easy to be in his shoes, finding out one of his children tried and succeeded to frame his other son.
“I’ve bailed Bradley out more times than I can count. And maybe that was where I went wrong.” He sighs. “I can’t help him out of this one. He’s going to have to face the consequences of his actions.”
Dad reaches for his phone and calls Bradley up to the house.
He strolls into Dad’s office five minutes later, dressed like he’s about to hit the club. His eyes flare when he sees Teagan and me. “What’s going on?”
“You should have a seat.” Dad motions to the empty chair.
“I’m on my way out.”
Bradley thumbs over his shoulder, eyes darting back to me as he takes a cautious step toward the door he just walked through.
“Your plans for the evening have changed, I’m afraid.”
Dad turns the laptop around to show Bradley what we all know: that he’s a thief and a liar. Bradley’s expression shutters, and he crosses his arms. “What is this?”
“Based on the number of forged checks and fake accounts, I would call it fraud.” Dad laces his fingers together and folds them on his desk. “Why would you do this to your own family, Bradley?”
“Where should I start? How about when you lied and said Bee’s cottage was worth jack shit and let her hand over what could be worth millions to your golden child? Or maybe we should talk about the way you’ve been pissing away our money ever since Mom died on frivolous purchases you don’t need. The house is mortgaged to the rafters. There’ll be nothing left in a decade.” He flails a hand around. “Or all that money sitting in a damn foundation, and for what? A tax shelter for money we don’t even have. I realized a long time ago that you’re going to leave me with nothing but debt, so I took matters into my own hands. I wanted my inheritance before there wasn’t anything left to inherit. Work smarter, not harder, Dad.”
“You’re a selfish bastard,” Teagan snaps.
“And you’re his damn lapdog!” Bradley says, motioning to our dad. “It’s pathetic the way you’re always pandering to whatever Dad wants. Taking care of him like he’s already an invalid. Staying in this stupid house, and for what?” His angry gaze shifts to Dad. “It’s not like any of us are going to get anything when you finally kick the bucket. You’re a walking corpse. You stopped living as soon as Mom died; you just don’t have the decency to do yourself in. Instead you bury yourself in work! Money is the only thing left you can give us, and you don’t even have any to give.”
“Bradley, you need to watch your mouth,” I snap. “You’ve already done regrettable things; don’t burn what’s left of your bridges because you’ve got an ill-placed vendetta.”
“I’m not wrong!”
I can’t believe how unaffected he is by what he has done. It’s like he doesn’t even know that it was wrong. It reminds me of what Dillion said—that sometimes we don’t want to see the truth, so we make up one that suits us better.
“But you’re not right either,” Dad says quietly. “Framing your brother and stealing from the foundation isn’t the answer. I realize I haven’t been the best role model, or even a very good father, but there’s more to life than money, Bradley.”
“What about Grammy’s cottage? Why go after that, especially after stealing the three million?” I need an answer, even though I’m probably not going to like it, or understand his motivation.
“Everything comes so easily for you. You’ve always been the golden boy who can do no wrong. It doesn’t matter what I do; I’ll never be as good as you. Hell, I’ve worked with Dad since I could hold a job, and still it’s you and all your successes and how much you’ve accomplished. Everyone fawns over you. Do you have any idea how frustrating that is? So I figured I’d take the thing that mattered most to you so you’d know what it’s like to lose out.”
“What you’ve done to your own family is shameful, Bradley,” Dad says. “If your mother were still here, she would be devastated.”
“Well, she’s dead, and I never really knew her because of you. She’s been gone for almost two decades, so how she would’ve felt is hardly relevant. Stop living in the damn past!”
My dad pushes out of his chair. “This isn’t a good reason for tearing what’s left of your family apart, Bradley. This isn’t something I can fix for you. You’re going to have to deal with this mess on your own.” I haven’t seen this version of my father in a long time.
Bradley’s demeanor shifts, and he looks suddenly panicked. “So what are you going to do? Make me pay it all back?”
“No.”
Bradley’s shoulders sag with relief, but only for a moment.
“You’re going to report yourself to the board and the police, and then you’re going to deal with the consequences of your actions. And if you don’t make the call, I will.”
His gaze darts around the room, and his half smirk slowly fades as he takes in Teagan and me, a somber, united front against him. I see the moment he realizes Dad is serious.
“But I could go to jail!”
“You should have considered that before you framed your own brother.”
There’s no satisfaction in watching my brother being taken away from our family home in handcuffs. Clearing my own name lacks the kind of closure I wanted, because it shines yet another negative spotlight on my family. And all the issues my dad has been burying for years are finally out in the open. I can handle it, because I don’t have to stay here and watch the fallout, but my dad and my sister don’t have the escape I do, and I worry that this will only serve to tear us further apart.
CHAPTER 27
SHOULD I STAY OR SHOULD I GO?
Van
The next few weeks definitely aren’t easy. People love gossip, especially the scandalous kind. I worry that my family drama is going to be too much for Dillion to handle on top of everything else she’s dealing with. Especially since my dad doesn’t bail Bradley out, and as predicted, he ends up in jail. Nothing says newsworthy headlines like your brother going to prison for fraud.
But Dillion stands by me.
In fact, the more drama there is, the more she and her family work to insulate me from it. I get invited over for dinners. Pies show up on my front porch. And through it all, Dillion is there, not only for me, but for Teagan as well, who has been visiting nearly every weekend.
While everything settles in the city, I decide to stay in Pearl Lake through the winter. I’m not in a rush to go back, and with the design jobs I’ve picked up on the lake thanks to referrals from Aaron and Footprint Renovations, I’m easily able to manage the simple lifestyle I’ve grown to love in Pearl Lake. I don’t know if it’s enough to make a career out of, but I’m getting by. And now that the $3 million in missing funds isn’t hanging over my head, companies are no longer shoving my résumé aside.
It’s early evening, almost a month after my brother’s takedown. In order to avoid a trial, Bradley took a plea deal. He’d hoped it would reduce his sentence, but he’ll be spending the next three years in prison. I’m not sure he’s remorseful—more that he’s pissed he got caught and has to pay all the money back that he stole.
Tonight Dillion is working late and doesn’t expect to be home for another hour. I’m taking the opportunity to go through some of Grammy Bee’s office files, something I’ve been avoiding, since there are fifty years’ worth of them. There’s an entire cabinet full of manuals for various appliances, many of which are so old that if they break, there’s no way to fix them. I’ve just tossed a manual for an eight-track cassette player into the garbage bag when there’s a knock on my door.
I assume Dillion got off work earlier than expected, so I shout, “Come on in!”
There’s a long pause before the door creaks open—it needs some WD-40 or a new set of hinges—and I turn to find not Dillion but her mom standing in the doorway.
“Oh, hey. Hi, Mrs. Stitch.”
She glances around the space and gives me one of her warm, slightly uncertain smiles. Dillion’s mom is an interesting woman. When she’s at work, she’s bubbly and full of life, talkative and friendly; when she’s not at the diner, she’s soft spoken and a little nervous. Her gaze lands on the TV. “It’s just Marilyn, Van. Have you eaten dinner?”
I glance at the clock. I’m not sure what time I sat down this afternoon to tackle the filing cabinet, but it’s getting close to six. “Not yet. I figured I’d wait until Dillion gets home.”
“She’s going to be at least another hour, and they’re probably feeding them anyway. Why don’t you come on over? You shouldn’t eat dinner alone.”
“Who’s feeding her?”
Maril
yn smiles wider, likely at my tone, which is infused with both jealousy and a hint of suspicion. “The Kingstons. The guys just finished the pool house, and the Kingstons invited them to celebrate with dinner and discuss what they’re planning next.”
“Planning next? I thought they were done with this project.”
“Mmm. Well, they keep adding to the list of things they want done, so they want to talk options. I expect they’ll be calling you, depending on what they’re tackling next. Anyway, it’s just me and Billy tonight, and I made shepherd’s pie. We’d love to have you join us, if you’re interested.”
I’ve had Dillion’s mother’s shepherd’s pie before. Just the mention of it makes my mouth water. “Sure, yeah, thank you. That’d be great.”
When Dillion and her dad finally roll in, we’re sitting at the dining room table, dinner long finished, dessert plates set on the counter—I can’t say no to coconut cream pie—and the three of us are deep into a game of Farkle. It’s a dice game that’s ridiculously addictive.
Since Billy’s been home from the hospital, things have improved. He goes to AA meetings, and the doctors recently gave him the go-ahead to work part time. According to Dillion, he’ll be able to manage his mental health, provided he continues to check in with his doctor regularly, attends therapy, and has his medication closely monitored.
It’s been an adjustment, and he’s slowly reconnecting with friends, making better choices, and avoiding situations that will get him in trouble.
Dillion stops short when she sees me sitting across from her brother. Her cheeks are flushed—probably because they had wine with dinner, and that’s the effect even one glass can have on her.
“Oh, hey. Well, I guess this explains why you’re not answering your phone.”
“I got an invite for dinner, and I couldn’t say no. We’re almost finished here. Why don’t you grab a seat and watch your brother wipe the floor with my Farkled ass.”
“Oh! I love this game!”
Billy points a finger at his sister. “You can’t help him.”
She raises both hands in the air. “I’ll be a silent observer.”
Love Next Door Page 27