“There are no trust funds,” Lauren said. “He emptied those accounts in November.”
Ruth stood up from the table, her chair scraping loudly against the floor. She walked toward the front door, her leather heels clicking on the cheap linoleum of the narrow hallway. She paused by the small wooden peg where three coats hung, none of them belonging to a man.
“I do not see a single pair of men’s shoes in this hallway,” Ruth said, her voice echoing in the narrow space.
Lauren followed her, her heart giving a slow, heavy thud. On the small wooden ledge near the mail slot lay a white envelope. It was a formal letter from the property management firm, addressed only to Lauren.
Ruth picked it up before Lauren could stop her, her eyes skimming the bold letters at the top.
“This lease is in your name alone,” Ruth said, her fingers snapping the paper flat.
“Yes,” Lauren said.
