I took off the scarf from my uniform and folded it carefully into my bag. My hands began to shake only after the fabric disappeared beneath the zipper. Denise was still aboard, and I could not ask her to hold me together from thirty feet away. I leaned against the cool wall of the jet bridge, breathed once, and understood that the part of the day requiring professional calm had ended.
The part requiring courage had barely begun.
Airport police had a small interview room beyond the public security checkpoint, a place with beige walls and a table that looked as though it had survived a thousand uncomfortable conversations. Detective Ramirez asked whether I wanted a victim advocate or a lawyer present before giving a formal statement. She explained that I could pause, ask questions, and distinguish what I had witnessed from what someone else had told me. It was the first time that morning anyone had carefully separated my feelings from the facts without suggesting that either one was unimportant.
I called my mother before I called an attorney. She answered on the fourth ring, sounding as though I had interrupted her in the garden. I could hear a radio playing softly in the background and the familiar squeak of the back door at the Bennett property. For a second I wanted nothing more than to ask whether the pecan tree had dropped its leaves early this year and pretend that was the reason I had called.
"Valerie, aren't you supposed to be on a plane?" she asked.
"I was. Mom, are you at the house?"
"Of course. Where else would I be on a Thursday morning?"
I looked down at the forged guarantee. "I need you to do something for me. Don't sign anything or let anyone take documents from the house, even if they say they're working for Ryan. I think there may be a problem with the property records."
Her silence lasted a beat too long. "What kind of problem?"
"I'm still finding out. I don't want to frighten you, but I need you to be careful."
"Did Ryan do something?" she asked.
There was no anger in the question, only the quiet certainty of a woman who had watched people for a long time. I had protected Ryan's reputation with my mother even while I suspected he was betraying me. Now I realized I might have protected it at the expense of her safety. "Yes," I said. "I think he did."
She inhaled slowly. "All right. Tell me what you need."
I told her about the purported loan documents and the address of the land. She asked whether there was a lien on the property yet, and I had to admit I didn't know. She said she would gather the estate paperwork, the deed, and the old survey my father kept in a metal cabinet. Then she surprised me with a question that was not about the house at all.
"Honey, are you alone right now?"
I looked at the empty chair across from me. "Yes."