“I came to offer something.”
“There it is.”
Her eyes sharpened.
“I have recordings.”
I went still.
“Of Thomas?”
“And others.”
“Which others?”
She hesitated.
I could hear water ticking through the irrigation pipes.
“Board members,” she said. “His attorney. A doctor.”
The greenhouse seemed to narrow around us.
“The doctor who drafted the petition,” I said.
Brooke nodded.
“Thomas wanted everything ready before filing. He wanted you declared dependent, moved into a facility, and cut off from decision-making. He said it would be clean.”
Clean.
What a strange word for burying a living woman.
“And you recorded this because?”
“Because I knew Thomas.” Her voice hardened. “I knew one day he might decide I was old furniture too.”
For the first time, I almost admired her.
Almost.
“What do you want?” I asked.
“Protection.”
“From Thomas?”
“From everyone.” She swallowed. “And money.”
There she was.
Honest at last.
“How much?”
“Two million.”
Henry made a choking sound near the door.
I did not look at him.
Brooke lifted her chin.
“It’s worth more than that.”
“Then take it to Diane.”