Page 85 of This Time Around
“Right.” Allie swallowed, not sure what she’d say if he pressed for more.
“Under §98.005, any person who finds money or goods valued at two hundred and fifty dollars or more and the owner of those goods is unknown, the finder is required by law to give notice in writing to the county clerk within ten days.”
Allie felt herself go cold. “Notice?”
“Written notice. Within ten days of the finding. And within twenty days, you’re required to publish an ad in the local newspaper once a week for two consecutive weeks stating the general description of the money or goods found, the name and address of the finder, and the date by which they must be claimed.”
“But—but—that’s insane,” Allie sputtered. “And totally old-fashioned. Besides, I’m not just going to put an ad in the paper saying, ‘hey, I’ve got a million dollars cash in my attic—is it yours?’”
Wade blinked. “A million dollars?”
“Hell.”
“Jesus, Allie—I assumed ten-K, max. Are you shitting me?”
“I didn’t mean to say that.” She kind of had, though. She’d been carrying the secret for days, and she desperately needed to tell someone. Someone besides Jack.
“Who else knows?” he asked quietly.
“Jack. He was there when I found it.”
Wade nodded. “That makes it more complicated.”
“You’re not kidding,” she muttered, though she wasn’t thinking about the law.
“No, I mean legally,” Wade said. “I’ll need to look it up, but I’m pretty sure Jack’s bound by the same reporting requirement. If you prevent him from getting in touch with the county clerk or putting the ad in the paper or whatever, there’s a chance you could be charged with theft by deception under ORS 98.005.”
“What do you mean prevent? Like I tie him up and tell him he can’t do it?”
“The law isn’t explicit there, but no. I think simple coercion would be enough to make the case.”
“Or omission?” She nibbled her lip. “Like not telling him that’s what I’m supposed to do?”
Wade nodded, his expression grim. “Yeah. Something like that.”
Allie swallowed hard and tried to think. She glanced at the window over her shoulder. She’d cracked it open to let the autumn-scented breeze ripple through, and a trickle of sunlight pooled on the back of the sofa.
She turned back to Wade. “What if it’s my grandma’s money? What if she left it to me on purpose?”
“Allie.” His tone said plenty, and so did the fact that he’d called her by name instead of Albatross. “We both know this isn’t about you wanting to keep a million dollars to yourself.”
“Maybe it is,” she said. “I could buy a lot of shoes with that.”
Wade shook his head. “You’re thinking the same thing I am.”
“What’s that?” she asked, forcing him to say it so she wouldn’t have to.
“We both know a lot of money magically vanished before your parents went to trial. If they get out on appeal, that’s a nice little nest egg just waiting in the family coffers.”
Allie shook her head. “But maybe that’s not it. Maybe my grandma left it to me free and clear. The will says I get the house and its contents, right?”
“Right. But not if those contents aren’t hers to give.”
Allie nodded and didn’t say anything. If the money was dirty, if her parents had squirreled it away somehow, she knew damn well they could say farewell to any hope of early release. Of returning to their normal lives and rebuilding like they might have hoped.
And even if it wasn’t dirty—if her grandma really, truly had tucked it away for her—there was no way to prove that. Then she’d just be getting her parents in trouble for nothing.
“I need more time,” she said. “To figure out if maybe someone in my family knows where it came from. Maybe it’s a legit thing.”
