Chapter 5
I called Jason seventeen times.
He did not answer.
On the eighteenth call, his phone went directly to voicemail.
I stood in the dark bedroom staring at Lily’s crib.
My brother.
Jason had been at our house four nights earlier.
He had held Lily while Claire and I cleaned the kitchen.
He had kissed her forehead.
He had called himself Uncle J.
Now Claire was telling me he had convinced her I was preparing to leave.
I opened our family group chat.
Jason’s last message had been that morning.
Big presentation today. Wish me luck.
Ordinary.
Everything looked ordinary before it became evidence.
At 1:43 a.m., I called Detective Shaw.
She answered on the fourth ring.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “Claire called me.”
That woke her completely.
“What did she say?”
I told her.
There was a long pause after I said Jason’s name.
“Your brother?”
“Yes.”
“Do you know where he is?”
“No.”
“Do not confront him.”
“I’ve already called him.”
“Stop calling.”
“Why?”
“Because if Claire’s allegations are connected to an active investigation, I don’t want him warned before we understand what happened.”
I sat on the edge of the bed.
“Investigation into what?”
“We don’t know yet.”
“You keep saying that.”
“Because guessing would be irresponsible.”
“She said he wanted her scared enough to do what he said.”
“What did he tell her to do?”
“She didn’t get that far.”
Detective Shaw sighed.
“Can you forward any calls or messages from Claire?”
“Yes.”
“And if she contacts you again, keep her talking if you safely can.”
“Is she in danger?”
“We’re contacting the hospital now to determine how she made that call.”
She paused.
“Mr. Bennett?”
“Yes?”
“Lock your doors.”
A chill ran through me.
“Why?”
“Because until we know why Jason is involved, I don’t want to assume anything.”
I checked every door.
Every window.
My father woke while I was checking the kitchen.
He walked in wearing sweatpants and an old Harvard sweatshirt.
“What happened?”
I told him.
Unlike me, he did not react immediately.
That was his lawyer brain.
He absorbed facts before emotion.
“Jason told Claire you were getting divorced?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know.”
“What else did Claire say?”
“That he wanted her scared.”
My father sat at the kitchen island.
“This began before Lily was born.”
I stared at him.
“What?”
He folded his hands.
“Jason came to see me in March.”
Lily was born in January.
“What did he want?”
“Money.”
Of course.
Jason had always lived one emergency away from disaster.
Failed businesses.
Investments.
Expensive ideas.
He could earn a hundred thousand dollars and somehow owe a hundred and twenty.
“How much?”
“Two hundred thousand.”
I almost laughed.
“For what?”
“He said he had a business opportunity.”
“And you gave it to him?”
“No.”
My father’s expression tightened.
“He became angry.”
“That’s normal for Jason.”
“This was different.”
“How?”
“He said something about you.”
My chest tightened.
“What?”
“He said everyone in the family had always chosen you.”
I looked away.
That wound was old.
Jason had been the charming one.
I had been the responsible one.
Adults praised responsibility.
Children noticed.
My father continued.
“He said you got the company connections. You got the house. You got the wife. Now you had the baby.”
“That sounds like Jason complaining.”
“Yes.”
My father leaned forward.
“But then he said, ‘Maybe Daniel won’t have everything forever.’”
I stared at him.
“You never told me.”
“I thought he was angry.”
“You thought?”
“Until tonight.”
My mother entered.
She had heard enough to understand.
“Richard?”
My father looked at her.
She went pale.
“What didn’t you tell us?”
“Margaret—”
“No.”
Her voice sharpened.
“What didn’t you tell us?”
My father explained.
My mother stared at him.
Then she slapped her palm against the counter.
“You should have told Daniel.”
“I know.”
“Jason has been spiraling for a year.”
“I know.”
“You knew he owed people money.”
“I did not know how much.”
I looked between them.
“What people?”
Silence.
I felt anger building again.
“What people?”
My father stood.
“Last year, Jason borrowed heavily for the restaurant project.”
“What restaurant project?”
Another silence.
I almost shouted.
“Why does everyone in this family know things except me?”
My mother looked ashamed.
“The project never opened.”
“How much does he owe?”
“We don’t know.”
“Who did he borrow from?”
My father said, “Private lenders.”
I laughed without humor.
“You mean people you don’t want to call loan sharks.”
My father looked away.
That was answer enough.
I thought about Claire.
About the notebook.
About Jason telling her to document things.
Then another memory surfaced.
Three months ago, Jason had asked a strange question.
If something happened to you, who controls Lily’s trust?
I had thought he was asking because our father was updating estate documents.
I had told him my parents would oversee most assets until Lily was older.
But Claire would obviously be her mother and primary guardian.
He had nodded.
Then asked, What if you and Claire split?
My stomach turned.
“Dad.”
My father looked at me.
“What happens financially if Claire and I divorce?”
“To you?”
“To her.”
“You have a prenup.”
“I know.”
“She receives the settlement amount specified in the agreement.”
“How much?”
“You know how much.”
“Say it.”
“Approximately four hundred thousand, depending on certain assets.”
“And if I die?”
My mother’s face changed.
“Daniel.”
“Answer.”
My father became very still.
“If you die while married, Claire receives substantially more.”
“How much?”
“Directly, several million. She would also control certain funds intended for Lily’s care, subject to trustees.”
My mother grabbed the back of a chair.
“Richard.”
I felt cold.
“Does Jason know?”
My father did not answer.
“Dad.”
“He may.”
I stood.
“You discussed my estate with him?”
“No. But he worked at the firm briefly.”
Ten years earlier.
Before Jason quit after six months.
“He could have seen old drafts.”
“Old drafts?”
“The structure has changed.”
“But the basic arrangement?”
My father said nothing.
My phone rang.
Detective Shaw.
I answered immediately.
“We located the source of Claire’s call.”
“And?”
“It came from a staff office at the hospital.”
“How?”
“She used a phone while speaking with a counselor. It wasn’t unauthorized in the way we initially thought.”
Relief.
At least nobody had smuggled her a phone.
“Did you speak with her?”
“Yes.”
“Did she tell you about Jason?”
“She gave us some information.”
“What information?”
“Mr. Bennett, I need you to come to the station in the morning.”
“Tell me now.”
“We’re working to verify it.”
“Detective.”
My voice cracked.
“My daughter was almost seriously hurt today. My wife says my brother manipulated her. My father just told me Jason might know details of my estate. I am done waiting for people to decide which truths I can handle.”
Silence.
Then Shaw said, “Claire says your brother began visiting her when you were at work.”
My mother covered her mouth.
I gripped the phone.
“For what?”
“He told her he was worried about her.”
I said nothing.
“He encouraged her to believe you were documenting her behavior to build a custody case.”
“That’s insane.”
“Yes.”
“He knew she was struggling.”
“According to Claire, yes.”
“And instead of helping her, he made her more afraid.”
“That is what she alleges.”
I paced toward the window.
“What did he want her to do?”
The detective hesitated.
“Claire claims Jason told her to record you appearing angry, absent, or inattentive.”
I stopped.
“He wanted evidence against me?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“She says he promised he could connect her with an attorney and help her secure custody.”
“For what?”
“That’s the part we’re still investigating.”
I looked at my father.
He already knew what I was thinking.
Money.
But something didn’t fit.
“If Claire got custody, Jason still wouldn’t get anything.”
“No.”
My father spoke quietly.
“But Claire could.”
I looked at him.
“And Jason could manipulate Claire.”
My mother stared at him.
“You think he wanted access to money through her?”
“I don’t know.”
I hated those words.
Everyone kept saying them.
I don’t know.
I don’t know.
I don’t know.
Meanwhile Lily slept twenty feet away, and the people who were supposed to protect her had been living inside a web of secrets.
Detective Shaw continued.
“Claire also said something else.”
“What?”
“She believes Jason deleted some of the nursery recordings.”
My heart stopped.
“How?”
“He knew the password to the home security system.”
I closed my eyes.
Of course he did.
Last summer, Jason had stayed at our house for two weeks while his condo was being renovated.
I had given him the guest access code.
Later, when we upgraded the system, I reused the same password because it was easy.
Careless.
Again.
“How long has he been accessing it?”
“We don’t know.”
I turned toward my laptop.
“I can check account logs.”
“Do not alter anything.”
“I won’t.”
I opened the security dashboard.
Device history.
Login activity.
Most were mine.
Claire’s.
Maria’s tablet.
Then an unfamiliar device appeared.
Sixteen logins in the past month.
Most occurred between noon and four.
While I was at work.
The IP address was local.
I read the device name.
JASON-MBP.
My father stood so quickly his chair scraped the floor.
“Oh my God.”
“He was inside our security system.”
I took screenshots.
Then I saw something worse.
The device had administrative permissions.
Permissions to delete recordings.
Disable cameras.
Change notification settings.
And create temporary access codes for the doors.
My stomach turned.
I opened access history.
A temporary code had been generated five weeks ago.
No name.
Used eight times.
All during workdays.
The last use?
Yesterday.
2:16 p.m.
Maria had been home.
Claire had been home.
Lily had been home.
I turned to my parents.
“Someone entered this house yesterday with a temporary code.”
My mother went pale.
“Jason?”
“I don’t know.”
My father reached for his phone.
“I’m calling him.”
“No.”
I stopped him.
“Detective Shaw said not to.”
My father stared at me.
Then slowly lowered the phone.
At 6:20 a.m., I had not slept.
At 6:32, Maria called.
Her voice was shaking.
“Mr. Bennett, I’m sorry.”
“What happened?”
“I remembered something.”
“What?”
“Yesterday.”
I stood.
“What about yesterday?”
“When Mrs. Bennett went upstairs for a shower, someone came to the back door.”
“Who?”
“I didn’t see his face clearly.”
My chest tightened.
“Was it Jason?”
“I don’t know.”
“What happened?”
“He said Mrs. Bennett was expecting him.”
“Did you let him in?”
“No. He used a code.”
My heart hammered.
“Then what?”
“He told me Mrs. Bennett wanted privacy.”
“And?”
“I said I was working.”
Maria started crying.
“He gave me an envelope.”
“What envelope?”
“Cash.”
I closed my eyes.
“He tried to pay you to leave?”
“Yes.”
“How much?”
“Five hundred dollars.”
“Did you take it?”
“No.”
“What did he do?”
“He laughed.”
“And then?”
“He said, ‘You really are loyal.’”
Maria’s breathing became uneven.
“Then he said something I didn’t understand.”
“What?”
“He said, ‘Loyal people are always the easiest ones to blame.’”
My skin went cold.
“Maria, where are you?”
“My sister’s apartment.”
“Stay there. Lock the door. Call Detective Shaw.”
“I already did.”
“Good.”
I was about to hang up.
Then she said, “There is one more thing.”
I closed my eyes.
“What?”
“When he left, he was carrying something.”
“What?”
“A small black camera.”
I stopped breathing.
Our nursery camera was white.
Our hallway cameras were white.
“What kind of camera?”
“I don’t know. Small. Like something you could hide.”
My mind raced.
Jason had wanted Claire to record me.
He had access to our house.
He had access to our security system.
Maybe he had planted another camera.
I searched the living room.
Kitchen.
Office.
Nothing.
My father helped.
Then I entered my bedroom.
I stood still.
Looked around.
Nightstand.
Bookshelf.
Television.
Smoke detector.
Air vent.
Then I saw a tiny black dot inside the USB charging block beside my bed.
I pulled it from the wall.
My father took one look.
“That’s a camera.”
My hands began shaking.
A hidden camera.
Beside the bed where Claire and I had argued.
Where we had talked about money.
Where we had talked about Lily.
Where I had sometimes collapsed after fourteen-hour workdays and said things I regretted.
I turned the device over.
There was a memory card.
My phone rang.
Jason.
I stared at his name.
My father whispered, “Don’t answer.”
I answered.
“Where are you?”
Jason laughed softly.
“Good morning to you too.”
“Where are you?”
“Why?”
I looked at the hidden camera in my hand.
“Because we need to talk.”
A pause.
Then his voice changed.
“You found it.”
My blood ran cold.
“You planted a camera in my bedroom.”
“I can explain.”
“Come here and explain.”
“No.”
“Then tell me where you are.”
“Daniel.”
His tone became strangely calm.
“You should stop digging.”
I looked at Lily’s portable crib across the hall.
“You got into my house.”
“I was trying to help.”
“You manipulated my wife.”
“Claire didn’t need much help.”
My fist tightened.
“Watch your mouth.”
“She hated being a mother before I ever said a word.”
“That does not excuse what you did.”
“What did I do?”
“You tell me.”
He was silent.
Then I heard an engine start in the background.
“Jason.”
“Take care of Lily.”
My stomach dropped.
“What does that mean?”
“It means exactly what I said.”
“Where are you?”
He hung up.
Thirty seconds later, Detective Shaw called.
“We just tried to locate your brother.”
“And?”
“He isn’t at his apartment.”
“Where is he?”
“We don’t know.”
My father looked at me.
I hated the fear in his eyes.
Then Shaw said, “Daniel, there’s something else.”
“What?”
“Jason withdrew a large amount of cash yesterday.”
“How much?”
“Forty-eight thousand dollars.”
My mouth went dry.
“And his car passed a highway camera heading north less than an hour ago.”
“North where?”
“New Hampshire.”
I looked at my father.
He whispered one word.
“The cabin.”
Our family cabin stood three hours north, deep in the White Mountains.
Remote.
Empty this time of year.
And there was only one reason Jason would go there.
My father kept old family records in a locked study.
Including copies of trusts.
Wills.
Financial documents.
I said, “He’s going to the cabin.”
Detective Shaw replied, “How sure are you?”
I looked at the hidden camera.
“At this point?”
May you like
I grabbed my coat.
“Sure enough.”
