Chapter 4 - Lucas
Lucas was my cousin on Dad’s side.
His father and mine were brothers.
He was thirty-nine, divorced, annoyingly calm, and one of the few relatives who had never treated Natalie and me like competing products.
I called him.
“Are you alone?”
“Yes.”
“I need you to tell me something without telling anyone else.”
“Okay.”
I explained.
He went quiet.
Then:
“You didn’t agree to give Natalie money?”
“No.”
“Did you ever discuss a number?”
“No.”
“Did you mention what you have saved?”
“Not recently.”
“How much do they know?”
“Apparently almost exactly.”
Lucas swore.
He almost never swore.
Then he asked:
“Do you want a lawyer?”
“Yes.”
“Do you want the police?”
“I don’t know.”
“Then don’t confront them alone.”
That was his best contribution.
Not:
Go get them.
Not:
Expose them.
Don’t confront them alone.
I still agreed to Sunday dinner.
Why?
Because Mom texted:
Come talk like adults before you destroy Natalie’s future.
I wanted answers.
But this time, I wanted a record too.
Lucas agreed to attend.
The recording law in our state permitted a participant to record a conversation under the circumstances we understood to apply. Still, later I gave the file to my lawyer rather than making assumptions about how it could be used.
My instruction was simple.
“Keep your phone running.”
Lucas asked:
“What do you think they’ll admit?”
I said:
May you like
“I don’t know.”
Neither of us imagined Dad’s hand around my throat.
