Page 104 of Micah
“The business account.”
Sawyer lets out a slow whistle.
“Son of a bitch.”
“Then he started taking out loans.”
“In whose name?”
“His and hers. Mostly hers.”
Silence.
“He forged her signature on some.”
“Motherfucker,” Sawyer rumbles.
“Others...” I stare toward the hallway. “...she signed.”
“She was trying to help him,” he says, like he gets it, too.
“Yeah.”
“She knew?”
“Not everything.”
“Why'd she do it?”
“Guilt. Loyalty. Love.”
I listen for her again.
The water is still running.
She's okay.
“He convinced her he'd sacrificed everything to keep their parents alive.”
“And?”
“He lied.”
Sawyer mutters a curse.
And at that moment, I picture Sloane standing behind her bar every night.
Working herself into the ground.
Driving an old van.
Every spare dollar disappearing into Patrick's addiction.
“He took everything she had,” I growl. “And she kept trying to save him.”
“She’s a good woman, Micah.”
I don’t answer because I don’t have to. She is a good woman.
