My Neighbor Cut Every Internet and Phone Line Outside My House Then Asked Why I Hadn't Missed The Most Important Call of My Life

Daniel smiled despite everything. "Policy."

"Correct. And the wire instructions?"

"All estate transfers go through the firm's escrow account. You never request transfers to individual accounts."

"Correct." He could hear the smile in her voice. "Now. The final settlement figure, after probate costs and taxes, is $612,400."

Daniel wrote it down. His hand was steady. "That's — that's more than you estimated."

"Your father did well in his later years, Mr. Mercer. He also —" she hesitated. "He left a letter. For you. It's with the estate papers. I thought you should know."

Daniel closed his eyes. "Thank you. I'll — I'll come by the office next week to sign everything."

"One more thing, Mr. Mercer. The police contacted us yesterday — a Detective Alvarez. She said our firm's name came up in a fraud investigation, and that you may have been targeted." Ms. Okafor's voice was careful. "I want you to know we take that very seriously. If anyone contacts you claiming to be from this firm, with different instructions —"

"I know," Daniel said. "I know exactly what to do."

After the call, Daniel sat in his office for a long time, looking at the number on his notepad. $612,400. Emma's college, paid in full, with enough left to fix the driveway, replace the roof, maybe even — he laughed out loud — maybe even split the cost of the oak tree with Frank.

His phone buzzed. A text from an unknown number: It's Alvarez. The two from last night gave up the crew. Six arrests this morning. The whole operation's done. You and Frank are clear.

Daniel texted back: Thank you.

Thank Frank, she replied. He did the work.

Daniel went to the window. Frank's truck was in the driveway. Frank was on the porch, coffee in hand, watching the street like he always did.

Daniel walked over. He didn't go around the fence this time — he vaulted it, clumsily, nearly catching his shoe on the chain-link, and Frank laughed out loud.

"Graceful," Frank said.

"Shut up." Daniel was grinning. "The settlement came through. $612,400."

Frank whistled. "Your father did all right."

"He left a letter, too. I don't know if I'll read it." Daniel leaned on the fence post. "Alvarez says six arrests. It's over."

"It's over," Frank agreed.

They stood in silence for a moment. Then Daniel said, "I owe you an apology. And not just for the feud."

Frank raised an eyebrow.

"Tuesday night, I — I started doubting you. The timeline, how much you knew, all of it. I sat up doing analyst brain on you like you were a suspect." Daniel looked at his shoes. "I'm sorry."

Frank was quiet for a moment. Then he said, "You want to know the truth?"

Daniel looked up.

"I listened for eleven nights, not one," Frank said. "I told you one because eleven sounds crazy. Eleven nights sitting in my garage with a scanner, listening to criminals talk about my neighbor's money." He sipped his coffee. "And the femtocell stuff, the IMSI catcher — I didn't learn that climbing poles. I learned it because after Margaret died, I had nothing to do, so I took every free cybersecurity course on the internet. Four years of it. I'm not certified in anything, but I know what a rogue base station looks like on a spectrum analyzer."

Daniel stared. "You're kidding."

"I don't kid about spectrum analyzers." Frank's mouth twitched. "The point is — you were right to doubt me. The story was too clean. A good analyst doubts the clean story. Your wife would've been proud of that too."

Daniel felt his eyes sting. "You keep bringing her up."

"She brought me soup," Frank said simply. "Twice. When Margaret was dying. Nobody else on this street did that." He set down his mug. "Now. About that oak tree."

"What about it?"

"I'll pay for half the driveway repair. And I'll trim the roots on my side. But the tree stays."

Daniel laughed — a real laugh, the first in days. "Deal."

11

The letter from Daniel's father sat on the kitchen counter for six days before Daniel opened it.

It was short, written in a shaky hand on lined paper — the hand of a man who'd waited too long to write it.

Daniel,

I don't expect you to forgive me. I don't expect you to read this more than once. I just needed you to know that I knew what I did, and I was sorry for it every day, and the only reason I didn't come back is that I was afraid you'd tell me not to.

The money isn't an apology. It's just money. But I want Emma to go to whatever school she wants, and I want you to fix that driveway. (Your mother told me about the tree. She thought it was funny.)