Chapter 10 - The Desperate Voicemail
The silence from the Holloway estate didn't last forever. Late Thursday night, while I was balancing the week’s receipts at the kitchen table upstairs, the diner's landline rang.
I picked it up. "Carter's Table."
"Evelyn. Please." It was Margaret. Her voice was stripped of its usual haughty polish, reduced to a raspy, frantic whisper. "The banks... they locked the gates. They’re foreclosing on the estate tomorrow."
"I'm balancing my books, Margaret," I said coldly. "State your business."
"Grant is facing federal prison, Evelyn. They want him to serve hard time. If Hannah just testifies as a character witness... if she just tells the judge he was under a lot of stress... we can get it reduced to probation."
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"Your son hit my daughter," I replied, my voice dropping to a deadly calm. "He threw her against a wall because his dinner was cold. You are lucky I only took your money, Margaret. Do not ever call this number again."
I slammed the phone down, the plastic cracking sharply.
