Chapter 4
I thought I had misheard her.
“Marlene’s house?”
Emma nodded.
“Why would you hide evidence in Ryan’s mother’s house?”
“Because she helped me.”
That stopped me.
“Marlene helped you?”
Emma looked exhausted, but she forced herself to continue.
“A week before the crash, she called me.”
“What did she want?”
“To talk about Ryan.”
I almost laughed.
“That woman showed up on my porch demanding I become his nurse.”
“She’s scared of him.”
“No. She worships him.”
“Not anymore.”
I remembered Marlene standing in Emma’s doorway.
The pale face.
The warning.
You don’t understand what you’re doing.
“Start from the beginning.”
Emma breathed slowly.
“Marlene found bank statements in Ryan’s room after the accident.”
“Why was Ryan keeping things at her house?”
“He’d been using her address for a second account.”
“An account for what?”
“The lake house money.”
“The property hasn’t sold yet.”
“No. But Jessica found a buyer willing to pay an advance.”
My stomach turned.
“How much?”
“Two hundred thousand.”
I stared at her.
“They took money on property they didn’t own?”
“With forged documents.”
“And Marlene knew?”
“Not until she saw the bank statement.”
“Then why didn’t she go to the police?”
Emma gave me a sad look.
“You know why.”
Because Ryan was her son.
Because families protected people until protection became complicity.
“What did Marlene do?”
“She called me because she knew I’d been asking questions.”
“And you trusted her?”
“No.”
“Good.”
“But I needed somewhere to hide the flash drive.”
“So you hid it in her house anyway?”
“It’s not exactly in her house.”
I frowned.
“Then where?”
“Her backyard.”
I stared.
Emma almost smiled.
“Dad taught us to bury emergency cash in waterproof jars, remember?”
Of course I remembered.
Dad believed banks were necessary but not trustworthy.
He kept five hundred dollars under a loose board in his workshop until the day he died.
“Where in the yard?”
“Under the old birdbath.”
Before I could answer, the door opened.
Detective Ramirez stepped inside.
“I spoke with your mother.”
Emma’s eyes widened.
“Detective.”
He moved closer.
“I’m glad you’re awake.”
Emma looked at me.
I nodded.
“Tell him.”
For the next twenty minutes, Emma repeated everything.
The speeding.
Jessica’s threat.
Ryan grabbing the wheel.
His words.
Ramirez never interrupted except to clarify details.
When Emma mentioned the flash drive, he sat straighter.
“Where is it now?”
She told him.
“I need to secure it.”
“So do I,” I said.
He shook his head.
“You’re not going.”
“It’s evidence against my husband.”
“Exactly.”
“Marlene could destroy it.”
“That’s why I’m going now.”
He stood.
I stood too.
“Then I’m coming.”
“No.”
“I know the house.”
“So do I.”
“You do?”
His expression gave me my answer.
Marlene had already been interviewed.
Maybe more than once.
Ramirez lowered his voice.
“Sarah, stay with your sister.”
I wanted to argue.
Emma squeezed my hand.
“Stay.”
So I did.
Two hours passed.
Then three.
No word.
My mother brought coffee.
I didn’t drink it.
At almost nine that night, Detective Ramirez called.
“The drive is gone.”
I closed my eyes.
“Of course it is.”
“The ground under the birdbath had been disturbed recently.”
“Marlene.”
“We don’t know that.”
“I do.”
“We’re bringing her in for another interview.”
I looked at Emma.
She had fallen asleep.
“What happens if the drive is gone?”
“We keep investigating.”
“That sounds like police language for we have nothing.”
“We have your sister’s statement.”
“Against two people who can call her confused after a brain injury.”
“That may happen.”
“So what do I do?”
“Do you still have access to your husband’s financial records?”
I stared at the wall.
“Some.”
“Don’t access anything you aren’t legally entitled to.”
“Understood.”
“But gather copies of anything you already have.”
I suddenly remembered something.
Ryan had left his old laptop behind.
Not because he forgot it.
Because its screen was cracked and he bought a new one after moving out.
It had been sitting in the guest room closet for six months.
“I might have something.”
“What?”
“An old laptop.”
“Whose?”
“Ours. Technically. We bought it together.”
“Don’t alter anything.”
“I won’t.”
After the call, I went home.
Ryan was still on my porch.
For one second, I thought I was imagining him.
The rain had stopped.
He sat under the porch light with a blanket over his legs.
His suitcases were beside him.
Marlene was gone.
“You’re still here?”
He looked up.
“Mom left.”
“I noticed.”
“She said she had somewhere to go.”
“The police station, probably.”
His face changed.
“So Emma woke up.”
It wasn’t a question.
That chilled me.
I walked to the door.
Ryan reached for my hand.
I stepped away.
“Did you try to kill my sister?”
His mouth opened.
“No.”
“She remembers.”
“She remembers wrong.”
“She remembers you grabbing the wheel.”
“I was trying to save us.”
“She remembers you saying she should have stayed out of it.”
His face drained of color.
“That’s not what happened.”
“What happened?”
“Jessica was trying to kill us.”
“And you?”
“I was trying to stop her.”
“Emma says Jessica tried to correct the car.”
“She’s confused.”
“Convenient.”
Ryan hit the arm of his wheelchair.
“I almost died too!”
I stared at him.
“So that makes you innocent?”
“No.”
He lowered his voice.
“But think about it. Why would I crash a car I was sitting in?”
“To destroy evidence.”
“That’s insane.”
“Is it?”
His breathing became shallow.
“I loved you.”
I actually laughed.
“You don’t get to use that word.”
“I did.”
“You were stealing from me.”
“I never took your money.”
“You forged my signature.”
“No.”
I stepped closer.
“Then who did?”
He went quiet.
Jessica.
He wanted me to say it for him.
I didn’t.
Ryan finally whispered, “She had copies of your signature.”
“How?”
He looked away.
I knew before he answered.
“You gave them to her.”
“Not for that.”
“For what, Ryan?”
He said nothing.
I felt something inside me settle.
For months, I had wondered what Jessica had that I didn’t.
What made him leave eleven years of marriage for her.
I had replayed every argument.
Every tired evening.
Every missed anniversary.
Every time I had chosen work over dinner or forgotten to ask about his day.
I had searched myself for the defect that made betrayal possible.
Standing there, I finally understood.
His affair had never been proof that I was lacking.
It was proof that he was capable of looking at love and seeing an opportunity.
“Move.”
He looked confused.
“What?”
“You’re blocking my door.”
“Where am I supposed to go?”
“Call your mother.”
“She isn’t answering.”
“Call Jessica.”
His face twisted.
“She disappeared.”
“Then call a rehabilitation facility.”
“Insurance won’t cover full-time—”
“That is not my problem.”
His eyes hardened.
For one second, I saw the man Emma described.
Not weak.
Not helpless.
Angry.
“You’re really going to leave me outside?”
“I’m going to call an ambulance and tell them you’re a disabled patient abandoned at my residence. They can take you somewhere safe.”
“That’ll look great in court.”
There it was.
A threat.
He realized too late that he had said it.
I crouched so our eyes were level.
“Which court, Ryan?”
He blinked.
“Divorce court?”
I smiled without warmth.
“Or criminal?”
His jaw tightened.
I stood.
He caught my sleeve.
“Sarah.”
I looked at his hand until he let go.
“I can explain the papers.”
“Save it for Detective Ramirez.”
I went inside and locked the door.
Then I called for medical transport.
While I waited, I went to the guest room.
The old laptop was exactly where I remembered.
Cracked screen.
Dusty case.
I plugged it in.
It took three attempts to start.
The desktop appeared.
Ryan’s old account was still there.
Password protected.
Mine wasn’t.
I opened my profile.
Most folders were ordinary.
Tax returns.
Vacation photos.
Invoices.
Then I noticed a folder I didn’t recognize.
TEMP BACKUP.
Inside were dozens of automatic phone backups from years earlier.
Ryan used to sync his phone to that computer.
I clicked the most recent backup.
Most files were corrupted.
But one folder opened.
VOICE MEMOS.
There were fourteen.
The dates went back more than two years.
I clicked the first.
Jessica’s voice came through the speakers.
“You keep saying she won’t sell.”
Ryan answered.
“She won’t.”
“So stop asking her.”
“What do you want me to do?”
Jessica laughed.
“The same thing husbands have been doing forever.”
Silence.
Then Ryan said, “No.”
Jessica replied softly.
“Not yet.”
My skin crawled.
I clicked another recording.
Ryan sounded angry.
“If Sarah ever finds out what you’re planning, we’re done.”
Jessica answered, “Then make sure she doesn’t.”
A third recording.
A fourth.
Then the seventh.
This time, there was another voice.
Marlene.
Ryan’s mother.
“If you hurt Sarah, I swear to God, Ryan—”
Ryan interrupted.
“Nobody is hurting Sarah.”
May you like
Marlene said something that made my blood turn cold.
“You already did when you married her for that property.”
