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“Okay, so what do they want from you guys?” I ask, prompting gently but impatient to hear where this is going.
“They have been asking us for months to do a press conference. One where we make a direct appeal to him, ask him to return. Addie has refused and my mom has been sort of ambivalent about it. Lilly and I decided we wouldn’t do it unless all of us were prepared to do it. They haven’t brought it up again since last year, and I was relieved because every time I tried to talk to Addie about it, it turns into an argument. But Agent Walker sounds determined we do this. She said this is our only chance to reach him. The only way to bring him in is if he turns himself in.”
I look at her and think carefully how to phrase my next question. It’s been a question I’ve had since they disappeared.
I walk us over to the center island and have her take a seat on one of the dark brown leather barstools that line it. I sit in the one next to her and swivel so we are facing each other. I look her dead in the eye, making sure my sincerity shows, but that I am also conveying my concern.
“I want to ask you something. And I want you to think about your answer before you say anything.”
She quirks her lips in confusion, but just says, “Okay.”
“Don’t you find it strange that the FBI has been so focused on your family. Has been so intent on you guys. I understand the need to get you out of Houston, especially after your car was set on fire and the house was vandalized. I understood, a little, the need for people to not know where you were right away. But why did you guys have to change your names. Why were you required to cut off everyone from your previous lives?”
“Because we were in danger!” She looks at me like I’ve just asked her if Earth is flat.
“From who? Disgruntled Enron employees? There were dozens of other executives living in Houston, some who were actually implicated in the wrongdoing. Some who had been caught with their hands in the proverbial cookie jar. None of their families were relocated.”
Her eyes widen in alarm. “Really? Are you sure?” she asks in a voice laced with wariness.
“Yes. They had to endure their houses being egged, threatening phone calls. They were ostracized. Some of them upped sticks and moved on their own. But no one else’s family was relocated by the FBI. At first I thought it was because on top of whatever he had done wrong at Enron, your dad had taken all that money and disappeared. But then my father told me that your dad wasn’t a suspect in any of the activities that contributed to the collapse. It was his disappearance with all of the money that made him seem guilty. And it was that crime and not the fraud and fake accounting they wanted him for.”
She hops out of her chair and starts pacing. She looks at me, her eyes wild with worry.
“How come you know all of this and I don’t? How come my mother doesn’t know?”
“I looked into it after you left. Haven’t you?”
“No, honestly, I stayed off all the news sites after we left, but the Internet was also nothing like it is now. There was no social media, and this has been our lives for so long, I haven’t thought it might not be true.”
“Well, I looked, recently because I’ve been suspicious. His disappearance, it looked like greed. But I didn’t think your father was that kind of man. Your dad loved his family above all else. I ate countless meals at your family dining table. I couldn’t believe your father would abandon you for money.”
She doesn’t stop pacing, but she turns to look at me. “Your mom, when I called, said a lot of things. I know now that as far as you were concerned they weren’t true. But there was real venom in her voice. Her anger at my father, at me, it was real. So why was she so convinced he had done something wrong if you weren’t?”
I sig
h and glance at my watch. It’s a few minutes shy of nine a.m. and my flight is at one p.m.; I have time. And I’m going to tell her now.
“Milly, my dad . . . he did commit suicide. But, it wasn’t because Enron collapsed.”
She stops pacing.
“What do you mean?” She looks horrified.
“My parents had a horrible marriage. My father gave my mother everything, showered her with affection, and all she ever gave him in return was grief.
“He was a well-compensated executive, but it wasn’t enough for her. She lived above our means. Shopped like crazy, ate out two, sometimes three times a day. Would hop on a plane to Sedona for a week at a spa or whatever she was doing there. And my dad couldn’t make enough money to keep up.
“She opened credit cards, lines of credit at stores and then when it became too much she would do a debt consolidation and just start spending all over again.
“The year before everything went down, they had to take out a home equity loan to pay off some of her bills. The only reason they were able to keep up at all was because my dad had a pretty impressive income from his job at Enron.
“I didn’t know any of this until then. Because suddenly they were arguing loudly, bitterly about it. They were worried about losing the house. And my dad . . .” I break off as the painful memories from those hellish days come rushing back.
Milly rushes over to the island and climbs into my lap. She puts her arms around me and rubs my shoulders. She doesn’t say anything, just giving me the contact I need. I’m so fucking lucky.
With her there, I'm able to continue.
“My dad was agonizing. He talked about how he didn’t know what they would do about my college tuition. He didn’t even know if they could keep the house. His only source of income was his unemployment check. The house had been mortgage free before that home equity loan. And the payments were crushing. The only thing of monetary value that he owned was his life insurance policy. It was a big one because he planned carefully.
