Chapter 2: The Man in the Photograph
I didn’t sleep that night.
Brooke’s party ended at eleven.
By midnight, the Mustang was locked in the garage.
By one, Maya was crying quietly in her bedroom.
And Claire had locked herself in ours.
I sat alone at the kitchen table staring at bank statements.
Ninety-two thousand dollars.
Gone.
The withdrawal hadn’t happened all at once.
That was the first surprise.
Claire had transferred money in pieces.
$9,500.
$8,000.
$12,000.
$21,500.
Then the final $41,000 withdrawal.
She had been draining Maya’s account for months.
I heard footsteps.
Maya entered wearing sweatpants and one of my old college hoodies.
“Can’t sleep?””
She shook her head.
“I keep thinking maybe I did something wrong.””
That broke something inside me.
“Maya, look at me.””
She did.
“You did nothing wrong.””
“But Mom said Brooke always gets my leftovers.””
“That is your mother trying to justify something unjustifiable.””
Maya sat across from me.
“Is college gone?””
“No.””
“How can you say that?””
“Because I’m your father.””
My voice cracked.
“I don’t know how I’ll fix it yet. But I will.””
She stared at the statements.
“Who’s Evan?””
“I don’t know.””
But I intended to find out.
At 7:15 the next morning, Claire finally came downstairs.
“Where’s Brooke?”” I asked.
“Sleeping.””
“Maya went to Emma’s house.””
Claire nodded.
I pushed a chair out.
“Sit.””
“Daniel, I’m exhausted.””
“So am I.””
She remained standing.
I placed the statements on the table.
“You started taking money five months ago.””
Her face changed.
“I can explain.””
“Start.””
Claire sat.
For almost thirty seconds she said nothing.
Then she whispered, “Evan is an old friend.””
“Friend.””
“Yes.””
“What kind of friend needs fifty-one thousand dollars?””
“He got into trouble.””
“What trouble?””
“Financial trouble.””
I leaned forward.
“Why are we financing it?””
Claire looked toward the window.
“He helped me years ago.””
“How?””
Silence.
“Claire.””
“I owed him.””
“You owed him fifty-one thousand dollars?””
Her eyes snapped toward mine.
“I said it was complicated.””
“And I said stop using that word.””
She stood abruptly.
“I’m not being interrogated in my own kitchen.””
She grabbed her purse.
I noticed something fall from the side pocket.
A photograph.
Claire didn’t see it.
I did.
I bent down.
“Daniel, give me that.””
Her reaction told me everything.
I turned the photograph over.
Claire looked younger in it.
Maybe twenty-five.
She was standing beside a tall man with dark hair.
His arm was around her waist.
Claire was kissing his cheek.
But that wasn’t what stopped my breathing.
Claire was holding a baby.
On the back, someone had written:
CLAIRE, EVAN & B — SUMMER 2009.
I looked at the date again.
2009.
Brooke was born in 2010.
“Who is the baby?””
Claire’s face drained of color.
“Give it back.””
“Who is the baby, Claire?””
She reached for the photograph.
I pulled it away.
“Daniel.””
“Answer me!””
She flinched.
I had never shouted at her like that.
But nineteen years of marriage suddenly felt like a house where someone had quietly removed the foundation.
Claire began crying.
“I was going to tell you.””
“When?””
“I don’t know.””
“Before or after you stole Maya’s college fund?””
Her tears stopped.
“You think this is easy for me?””
I stared at her.
“No, Claire. I think easy was taking money from our daughter and hoping nobody noticed.””
She grabbed her purse.
“I need air.””
I blocked the doorway.
“Is Evan Brooke’s father?””
Claire stared at me.
That silence lasted perhaps three seconds.
It felt like three years.
Then she whispered, “No.””
Relief hit me.
Briefly.
Because Claire immediately added:
“But there’s something about Brooke you don’t know.””
My stomach dropped.
“What?””
She looked toward the stairs.
“Not here.””
“Claire, Brooke is asleep.””
“That doesn’t matter.””
“What don’t I know about my daughter?””
Claire covered her mouth.
Then the doorbell rang.
Neither of us moved.
It rang again.
I opened the door.
A man stood on my porch.
Tall.
Dark hair streaked with gray.
I recognized him immediately from the photograph.
Evan Mercer.
He looked past me and saw Claire.
“Claire.””
She whispered, “Oh God.””
Evan stepped closer.
“You stopped answering.””
I tightened my grip on the door.
“You have about ten seconds to explain why you’re at my house.””
He studied my face.
Then something like pity appeared in his eyes.
“You’re Daniel.””
“Yes.””
Evan looked at Claire.
“You still haven’t told him?””
“Told me what?””
Claire shook her head desperately.
“Evan, don’t.””
He ignored her.
“I didn’t take fifty-one thousand dollars from your family.””
My pulse hammered.
“What?””
“I received twelve.””
I slowly turned toward Claire.
Evan continued.
“If fifty-one thousand is missing, then thirty-nine thousand went somewhere else.””
Claire backed away from us.
May you like
And for the first time, I realized Evan hadn’t come to collect money.
He had come because he was afraid of whatever Claire had done with the rest.
