“No.”

The force in her voice made me pause.

It wasn’t fear for herself.

It was fear of what my mother would say.

I dialed anyway.

My mother answered on the fourth ring, her voice soft and sleepy.

“Mason? Honey, are you okay?”

For one second, I almost said yes.

Habit is powerful.

Instead I said, “Do you know Daniel Mercer?”

The line went quiet.

Not confused quiet.

Recognizing quiet.

“Mom,” I said.

Her voice changed.

“Where are you?”

“At home.”

“Is Claire there?”

I looked at my wife.

“Yes.”

My mother inhaled shakily.

“Don’t let her leave with any documents.”

Claire whispered something under her breath.

I couldn’t make it out.

My mother continued, and now she sounded more awake than I’d ever heard her.

“Listen to me carefully. Take pictures of everything. Don’t sign anything. Don’t agree to meet Daniel alone. And Mason?”

“What?”

Her voice cracked.

“If there’s a black binder, don’t read the last section until I get there.”

I looked down at the binder in my hand.

A cold weight moved through me.

“There is a black binder.”

My mother began to cry.

Not loudly.

Just one broken breath that told me the story had begun long before Claire.

“What’s in the last section?” I asked.

“Mason,” she said, “please wait for me.”

I looked at Claire.

She looked calm again.

Too calm.

That calm made the decision for me.

I opened the binder.

“Mason, no,” my mother said through the phone.

But I was already turning pages.

Mortgage.

Insurance.

County.