The room shifted.
My father frowned. Rebecca took the phone from my hand and replayed the message.
Please don’t let his mom control the story.
“What does that mean?” I asked.
Rebecca’s eyes narrowed slightly. “It means Brenda may not be aligned with them in the way we assumed. Or she wants you to believe she isn’t.”
“She was on the recording,” my father said.
“She was,” Rebecca agreed. “But she asked questions. Cynthia made most of the statements. Elias confirmed enough to condemn himself emotionally, but Brenda’s position may be more complicated.”
I didn’t like the flicker of curiosity that moved through me.
Brenda had known. Brenda had asked about the apartment. Brenda was pregnant with my husband’s child.
Complicated did not mean innocent.
Still, her voice had sounded afraid.
By late afternoon, Elias had moved from calls to emails.
His first email was pleading.
