Chapter 6 - The Calculation of Costs
By noon, the Cathlamet marina was filled with the flashing red and blue lights of the Wahkiakum County Sheriff’s Department.
Spencer Hack had been extricated from the rotten pier by two deputies using a chainsaw, his left ankle severely fractured from the twist through the timber. He sat in the rear of an ambulance, his face grey, his wrists cuffed tightly to the gurney rails as a detective reviewed the interstate fraud warrant that Brennan’s legal team had finally pushed through the King County Superior Court.
The canvas bag sat on the hood of the Tesla, dry and untouched, its contents secured by the state patrol as evidence for the impending grand jury hearing.
Arthur sat in the passenger seat of his son’s car, a thick wool blanket from the sheriff’s office wrapped around his shoulders, holding a paper cup of lukewarm black coffee. Lorraine sat beside him, her head resting against his arm, her shoulders finally still after hours of shaking. Madison was asleep in the back seat, wrapped in Brennan’s gray hoodie.
"He told me I was nothing without him, Dad," Lorraine whispered, her voice raw. "After the divorce from David... I was so broke. I owed thirty thousand in back taxes from the logistics firm that failed. Spencer came along and paid it off in two weeks. He made me feel like... like I finally had someone who could protect me from the mistakes I kept making."
Arthur squeezed her shoulder, his rough, calloused hand warm against her wet jacket. "A guy like Spencer doesn't protect you from mistakes, Lorraine. He curates them. He keeps them in a folder so he can bring them out whenever you start thinking about walking away."
Brennan walked over from the sheriff’s trailer, his phone finally tucked into his pocket. He looked exhausted, the skin under his eyes dark, but the tension in his jaw had eased.
"The bank freeze is permanent," Brennan said, leaning against the door frame. "The nine hundred twenty thousand is back in the escrow account. The lawyers are drawing up a corporate separation agreement for Lorraine’s LLC—we’re dissolving the entity by Friday. Spencer’s name won't be on a single piece of paper associated with this family by the time he gets out of surgery."
He looked at his sister, his expression softening from the hard corporate mask into the look of the younger brother who used to help her clean the flour bins after school. "Lorraine... why didn't you just tell me? You think I care about a million dollars more than I care about you?"
"I was ashamed, Brennan," she said, looking down at her hands. "You built this massive company. You're this... this success story that everybody in Seattle talks about. And I’m the daughter who can't even keep a three-room apartment in Tacoma without Dad helping with the electric bill. I thought... I thought if I took the money for the house, I could give Dad something beautiful, and then I could use the management fees Spencer promised me to pay you back before you ever noticed the discrepancy."
"I didn't want a lake house, birdy," Arthur said softly, turning her face toward him until she was looking into the deep, honest lines of his sixty-seven-year-old face. "I like my apartment above the pharmacy. The pharmacy owner lets me keep my old special effects trophies in the window display, and the coffee shop down the street knows exactly how much cream I take without me asking. I don't need cedar beams and glass walls to know my son loves me. I just need my kids to sit at my table on Sunday and not have to run for the door."
A fresh tear spilled over Lorraine’s cheek, but this time it wasn't the tear of a woman trapped in a corner. It was the slow, clean release of someone who had finally been pulled out of the current.
"What happens to the house now?" she asked quietly.
Brennan looked at his father, a small, subtle glint of his father's old theatrical spark appearing in his eyes. "Well... the deed is fully paid, and the title is clear. We can't sell it until the fraud case against Spencer is settled in court, which means it’s going to sit empty for at least a year."
May you like
Arthur took a slow sip of his coffee, looking out at the gray river where the rain was finally beginning to clear, revealing a thin, pale strip of blue sky along the western horizon.
"It shouldn't sit empty," Arthur said, a slow, beautiful smile spreading across his face. "Evelyn Vance down the road thinks I’m a crazy old man from Arizona who’s lost his mind. I think it’s our family responsibility to go down there next weekend and show her exactly how much noise a bunch of Callahans can make when they’re having Sunday dinner."
