Chapter 12 - The Question I Asked Michael Once
I agreed to see Michael exactly once before sentencing.
Through reinforced glass.
Attorney nearby.
No private room.
No physical contact.
He picked up the phone.
I did too.
For several seconds he only stared at my stomach.
My daughter was due in less than three weeks.
“You look okay.”
I almost hung up.
Instead I asked:
“When did you know?”
His face tightened.
“Know what?”
“That I didn’t steal the money.”
He looked away.
“Emily—”
“When?”
“About two weeks.”
“Day seventeen?”
His eyes returned to mine.
He knew I knew.
“Yes.”
I swallowed.
“Why didn’t you open the wall?”
He began with Sarah.
“Mom said—”
“No.”
I cut him off.
“Why didn’t you?”
His mouth moved, but nothing came.
Then:
“I was scared.”
“Of what?”
“Everything.”
“Police?”
“Yes.”
“Losing the business?”
“Yes.”
“The house?”
“Yes.”
“Me?”
He looked confused.
“Losing me?”
I clarified.
“No. Were you scared of me?”
His eyes filled.
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because you would hate me.”
That answer almost broke my composure.
“You kept me inside a wall because you were afraid I would hate you for putting me inside a wall?”
He covered his eyes.
“I thought if we fixed the money first—”
“How?”
“Sell the house. Pay people. Get Mom straightened out.”
“And then?”
“We could explain.”
I stared.
He genuinely believed explanation was some future destination where the unforgivable might become manageable.
I asked:
“What did you think happened after I signed?”
“I don’t know.”
That was the first answer I fully believed.
There had been no clean endgame.
Only tomorrow.
Tomorrow he would release me.
Tomorrow things would calm down.
Tomorrow the company would stabilize.
Tomorrow Sarah would fix the books.
Tomorrow I would understand.
Seventy-three tomorrows.
I rested one hand over my daughter.
“She kicked every night.”
Michael started crying.
I continued.
“I used to tell her quietly that there was a world outside the wall.”
“Emily, please.”
“I need you to know something.”
He looked up.
“I survived because I stopped believing anything you promised about tomorrow.”
Then I hung up.
He kept talking.
I couldn’t hear him.
May you like
For seventy-three days, Michael controlled when the hatch opened.
That afternoon, I controlled when the conversation ended.
