“Same, even if you always create fake family drama. Do you remember the time you convinced Zoey that she was shrinking? She made me measure her height every morning forsix monthsafter that visit,” Eliana said as they followed the girls inside.
Clem nodded, her eyes bright and unapologetic.
“Still . . .” Eliana sighed. “I’ve needed this.”
Clem’s brows drew tight at Eliana’s change in tone, her eyes suddenly critical. “Something’s up.”
“Later,” Eliana mumbled as they moved into the living space where Zoey and Abby waited.
Clem nodded, patient as always, and for the rest of the evening, she entertained the girls with stories about all the ways she and Eliana had gotten themselves in and out of trouble as kids, sneaking them slices of pie before dinnerwas even on the table. Then she utterly destroyed them in a game of Uno—dealing out plus-fours with unmerciful and tactical precision.
The moment the door shut on the guest room that evening, however, Clem turned fully in her seat on the couch and waved a hand in the air. “Spill it, El.”
“I’m divorcing Jesse,” Eliana answered quickly, ripping off the proverbial Band-Aid.
Clem straightened, her eyes narrowing, “What did he do?”
“That’s . . . a separate discussion,” Eliana hedged, hurrying to distract her. “But I need your help with something else.”
“Help?” Clem stilled, her tone curious. “Likecomputerhelp, or the kind of help where I bring in somebody with some . . . special skills?”
“Definitely computer help.”
Clem smirked. “You sure?”
“Computer.” Eliana reiterated, arching a brow.
“Alright,” Clem sighed. “What am I digging up?”
“First, I could use a hand in connecting to some, uh, security technology that I’ve recently put around the house.”
Clem waved a hand with a scoff. “Child’s play. Anything else?”
“Yes . . . but it’s bigger. I need to understand our financial situation. All of it. I need access to our bank accounts, loans, credit cards, utilities . . . I want to know everything. Could you get me in without raising any alarms?”
Clem clicked her tongue, thinking. “That’s trickier. I’d usually ask Marty for a hand, but he’s off the grid at the moment. It may take me a little time, but you know I’ll get it for you.” She paused. “Is there something specific I’m looking for?”
“I want it all, but yes . . .“ Eliana leaned in, lowering her voice. “I want to see what’s sitting in the bank. I think Jesse may be up to something.”
“What kind of something?”
“I came across a credit statement with some high balances. Too high. Outside our tax bracket high. The debt is . . . concerning, and the payments he’s making shouldn’t be possible. We don’t have that kind of money. I think he may have gotten himself involved with something dangerous.”
“What the fuck?” Clem jumped to her feet, pacing as a splotchy, furious red crept up her neck. “He could go to prison for this!”
“I’m aware.”
“Oh.” she stilled, visibly cheering as she fell back into her seat beside Eliana. “So we’re sending him to prison?”
“Right now, we’re just information gathering.”
“C’mon, El.” Clem leaned forward, her expression tightening. “The only viable choices here are prison or my . . . connection. Tell me you agree.”
“Information gathering,” Eliana repeated. “There’s a lot to consider here. Before I make my move, I want to know everything.”
“Like?”
“Maybe the pair of twelve-year-olds in the other room who love and idolize their father? No matter what happens, he’s still their father.”
