Too Good to Be True(86)

“Holy crap, Cal,” I breathed.

He didn’t answer, just nodded.

“What did you do?”

“Well, it was four in the morning, and I was fairly stunned, seeing my own name there on the computer screen. I was afraid to look away, too, thinking my brother—because it couldn’t have been anyone but him—that he might move the money. Or spend it. God, I don’t know. So I opened another account and transferred the whole amount.”

“Aren’t those accounts password protected and all that?” I asked. (I did read John Grisham, after all.) “Yeah. He used our mother’s name. He never was really smart when it came to PIN numbers and that kind of thing. Always used his birthday or our mom’s name. Anyway, I figured I’d confront him, and we’d find a way to get the money back to where it belonged. We were working in the Ninth Ward, rebuilding neighborhoods, and I figured we’d just slip the money back in.”

“Why didn’t you call the Feds or the police?” I asked.

“Because it was my brother.”

“But he was cheating all those people! And he was using you to do it! God, the Ninth Ward was hardest hit of anyone—”

“I know.” Cal sighed and scrubbed his hand through his hair. “I know, Grace. But…” His voice trailed off. “But he was also the brother who let me sleep in his room for a year after our mom died. The one who showed me how to hit a baseball and taught me to drive. He always said we’d go into business together. I wanted to give him a chance to make things right.” Cal looked at me, his face looking older, and sad. “He was my big brother. I didn’t want him to go to jail.”

Yes. I also knew about putting family before common sense, didn’t I? “So what happened?” I asked more quietly.

“What did he say?” I set my empty plate aside.

“Well, what could he say? He was sorry, he got caught up in it all, everyone else was doing it…But he agreed that we’d just funnel the money back into the projects and make things right.” He paused, remembering.

“Unfortunately for us, the Feds had been watching the company. When I moved the money, I gave them a trail, and they pounced.” He looked down and shook his head.

“Did your brother go to jail, too?” I asked softly.

Cal didn’t look up. “No, Grace. He testified against me.”

I closed my eyes. “Oh, Cal.”

“Yeah.”

“Did you…what did you do?”

Another weary sigh. “My brother had taken steps, you know? My name was all over this, and it was his word against mine. And I was the accountant. Pete said even if he’d wanted to, he wouldn’t have known how to do it, I was the college boy and all that. The prosecutors found him a lot more convincing, I guess. My lawyer said the world wasn’t going to go easy on someone who stole from Katrina victims, so when they offered a plea, I took it.”

Angus jumped onto my lap, and I petted him, thinking. “Why didn’t you ever tell me this before, Cal? I would’ve believed you.”

“Would you?” he asked. “Doesn’t every convict say he’s innocent? That he was set up?”

He had a point. I didn’t answer. “I have no way of proving that I didn’t do exactly what my brother said I did,” he added quietly.

My heart ached in a sudden, sharp tug as I tried to imagine what it would feel like to be turned in by Margaret or Natalie. To be betrayed by one of them. I couldn’t. Yes, of course Nat had fallen for Andrew, but that wasn’t her fault. I never thought so, anyway, and I knew my sister. But to have your own brother send you to jail for his crime …man. No wonder Cal had an edge when it came to discussing his past.

“So you were going to tell me all this? Even without Margs digging around in your records?”

“Yes.”

“Why now? Why not all the other times I asked?”

“Because we started something last night. I thought we did, anyway.” His voice was hard. “So that’s the story.

Now you know.”

We sat in silence for a few more minutes. Angus, weary of being ignored, yarped once and wagged his tail, inviting me to adore him. I petted his fur idly and adjusted his bandana, idly noting that he’d eaten Cal’s omelet while we were talking.

“Cal?” I finally said.

“Yeah.” His voice was flat, his shoulders tight.

“Would you like to have dinner with my family sometime?”

He didn’t move for a second, then practically sprang across the distance between us. His smile lit up the gloom.

“Yes.”

He wrapped his big arms around me and kissed me hard, and Angus nipped him. Then we cleared the dishes and went to his place.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

THE NEXT DAY was Memorial Day, so I didn’t have to crawl out of Cal’s bed at the crack of dawn. Instead, we walked down to Lala’s for pastries and meandered back along the Farmington.

“Do you have plans this afternoon?” Callahan asked, taking a long pull from his coffee.

“What if I did?” I asked, tugging Angus’s leash so he wouldn’t eat or roll on the poor dead mouse at the edge of the path.

“You’d have to cancel them.” He grinned, slipping his arm around my waist.