Chapter 3
I thought I had misunderstood her.
“What did you say?”
Megan looked back toward the house.
Christmas lights glowed along the roof.
Through the front windows, I could see shadows moving inside.
It looked warm.
Safe.
Normal.
Nothing about that house was normal anymore.
“Ryan took out a second mortgage,” she repeated.
“That’s impossible.”
My voice sounded weak.
“My name is on the house.”
“I know.”
“He can’t just borrow against it without me.”
Megan’s face tightened.
“That’s why I’m scared.”
I stared at her.
“What are you saying?”
“I’m saying I don’t think your signature on the paperwork is yours.”
For one second, my mind went completely blank.
Then my body took over.
I unlocked the car.
“Get in.”
“Where are we going?”
“To my mother first.”
I started the engine.
Then I looked at the house.
Ryan had stepped onto the porch.
He wasn’t wearing a coat.
He stood beneath the Christmas wreath we had hung together six days earlier.
His phone was pressed to his ear.
Watching us.
Calling someone.
I backed out of the driveway.
Megan turned around in her seat.
“He’s following.”
I looked in the mirror.
Ryan’s SUV pulled out behind us.
My stomach twisted.
“Call your father.”
Megan did.
Thomas answered immediately.
“Dad, Ryan’s following us.”
I heard Thomas swear through the speaker.
“Where are you?”
“Heading toward Emily’s mother’s bank.”
“Stay on the main roads.”
Ryan flashed his headlights.
I tightened my hands on the wheel.
Megan looked back.
“He’s getting closer.”
My phone rang.
Ryan.
I let it ring.
Then a text appeared.
COME HOME.
Another.
WE CAN FIX THIS.
Another.
DON’T MAKE THIS WORSE.
I laughed without humor.
“He hits me, steals our savings, helps his mother take money from my sick mom, possibly forges my signature, and I’m making it worse?”
Megan whispered, “That’s what he does.”
I glanced at her.
“What?”
She looked down.
“Nothing.”
“No. Tell me.”
She rubbed her hands together.
“When Ryan was younger, he always did this. If he broke something, someone else made him angry. If he got suspended, the teacher hated him. If he crashed Dad’s truck, Dad shouldn’t have left the keys out.”
I had heard versions of those stories.
But Ryan always told them like funny childhood memories.
I had laughed.
Now I felt sick.
“What about Linda?”
Megan looked out the window.
“She made excuses for him.”
“All the time?”
“Always.”
My phone rang again.
This time Linda.
I ignored it.
Then Megan’s phone rang.
She looked at the screen.
“Mom.”
“Don’t answer.”
She silenced it.
Ryan stayed behind us for six more blocks.
Then, suddenly, he turned away.
I should have felt relieved.
I didn’t.
“He’s going somewhere.”
Megan nodded.
“Probably to clean something up.”
Those words made me push harder on the gas.
We reached the bank twenty minutes later.
My mother was sitting in the lobby with a blanket around her shoulders.
When she saw my face, she stood.
“Emily?”
I ran to her.
She hugged me.
Then immediately pulled back.
“What happened to your cheek?”
“I’m fine.”
“You are not fine.”
Her eyes dropped to my arm.
The skin was bright red.
Blisters were forming near my wrist.
“Oh my God.”
“Mom, later.”
“No. Hospital.”
“We have to handle the money first.”
Daniel approached us.
He was a tall man in his fifties with gray hair and a careful expression.
“You must be Emily.”
“Yes.”
He looked at my face.
Then at Megan.
“Would you like me to call the police?”
I hesitated.
My mother didn’t.
“Yes.”
“Mom.”
She turned toward me.
“Your husband hit you.”
The bank lobby went quiet.
I looked at the floor.
Some part of me still wanted to protect Ryan.
The realization made me angry at myself.
“He did.”
My mother touched my uninjured cheek.
“Then we call the police.”
Daniel led us into a private office.
He explained the transfer.
My mother had received the $5,000 from our joint account yesterday afternoon.
At 8:14 Christmas morning, someone logged into her online banking.
They added an external account.
Then moved all $5,000 out.
“Was there anything else taken?” I asked.
Daniel nodded.
“Another eleven hundred and forty-two dollars.”
My mother gasped.
“That was everything I had.”
I felt rage climb up my throat.
“Where did that money go?”
Daniel turned the screen slightly.
The external account belonged to Linda Carter.
There it was.
Her name.
Her account.
No misunderstanding.
No excuse.
Megan covered her mouth.
“My God.”
My mother stared at the screen.
“How did that woman get into my bank account?”
That question made me go still.
My mother wasn’t good with technology.
I helped her with almost everything.
Bills.
Passwords.
Medical portals.
Banking.
But there was one other person who had recently been near her phone.
Ryan.
Three weeks ago.
My mother had come to our house for dinner.
Her phone stopped connecting to email.
Ryan offered to fix it.
He had taken it upstairs for nearly forty minutes.
I suddenly remembered something.
“Mom, did Ryan help you reset your bank password recently?”
She frowned.
“He said my passwords were unsafe.”
Megan looked at me.
My mother continued.
“He created some password manager thing.”
I felt physically sick.
“Did he tell you the password?”
“He wrote it down.”
“Where?”
“In my purse.”
She reached inside.
No paper.
She searched again.
Then looked at me.
“It’s gone.”
A uniformed police officer arrived fifteen minutes later with another officer.
I told them everything.
The slap.
The money.
Linda’s account.
The missing savings.
The possible forged mortgage.
As I spoke, I felt embarrassed.
Not because of what I had done.
Because of how much I had ignored.
The officer taking notes looked at me kindly.
“Mrs. Carter, do you feel safe returning home tonight?”
“No.”
It was the first answer that came easily.
“No, I don’t.”
“Do you have somewhere else to stay?”
“My mother’s.”
Megan immediately shook her head.
“Ryan knows where she lives.”
The officer looked at her.
“Do you believe he would go there?”
Megan hesitated.
“Yes.”
My mother looked frightened.
That made the decision for me.
“We’ll get a hotel.”
The officer told me I should photograph my injuries.
I did.
My cheek.
My arm.
The ruined dress.
Each photo felt like evidence from someone else’s life.
Then a second officer took a statement from my mother.
The bank froze her account.
Linda’s receiving bank was contacted.
But Daniel warned us the money might already have been moved.
Afterward, I took my mother to urgent care.
The doctor treated the burns and documented the swelling on my face.
Second-degree burns in two places.
No fracture.
I should have felt lucky.
I didn’t.
At nearly midnight, we checked into a hotel.
Two rooms.
My mother in one.
Megan and I in the other.
I sat on the edge of the bed wearing borrowed sweatpants and a bandage around my arm.
My phone showed thirty-seven missed calls.
Twenty from Ryan.
Eleven from Linda.
Six unknown numbers.
There were texts too.
Ryan:
YOU’RE DESTROYING OUR MARRIAGE.
PLEASE COME HOME.
MOM WILL RETURN THE MONEY.
WE JUST NEED TO TALK.
I DIDN’T MEAN TO HIT YOU.
YOU EMBARRASSED ME IN FRONT OF EVERYONE.
Then:
ANSWER ME.
And finally:
IF YOU GO TO THE POLICE YOU’LL REGRET IT.
I stared at that one.
Megan leaned over my shoulder.
“Screenshot it.”
I did.
Then another message arrived.
Unknown number.
Mrs. Carter, this is Attorney Benjamin Cross. I represent your husband. Please refrain from making defamatory accusations or interfering with marital assets.
I read it twice.
“An attorney?”
Megan’s eyes widened.
“He already called a lawyer?”
I felt something inside me harden.
Ryan had gone from apologizing to threatening me through an attorney in less than three hours.
I called Thomas.
He answered immediately.
“Emily?”
“Did Ryan leave?”
A pause.
“Yes.”
“Where did he go?”
“I don’t know.”
“Did Linda leave?”
Another pause.
“Yes.”
“When?”
“About an hour ago.”
“Together?”
“No.”
My instincts screamed.
“Thomas, what aren’t you telling me?”
He breathed heavily.
“I went into Linda’s office.”
I waited.
“I found documents.”
“What documents?”
“Loans.”
I closed my eyes.
“How much?”
“Emily…”
“How much?”
He said it quietly.
“Two hundred and eighty thousand dollars.”
I stopped breathing.
Megan heard him.
Her face went pale.
Thomas continued.
“Some are in Ryan’s name.”
I swallowed.
“And the rest?”
“One is against your house.”
My heart hammered.
“And?”
Thomas’s voice cracked.
“One is against mine.”
Megan whispered, “Dad.”
Thomas said, “I never signed it.”
There it was again.
Forgery.
Not just against me.
Against his own father.
I stood.
“What were they doing with the money?”
“I don’t know yet.”
“Find out.”
“Emily, I’m trying.”
“No. I mean right now.”
My voice shook with fury.
“They stole from my mother. They stole from me. They stole from you.”
Thomas was silent.
Then he said, “There’s something else.”
Of course there was.
“What?”
“I found a folder with your name on it.”
My stomach tightened.
“What kind of folder?”
“I didn’t open everything before Linda came back.”
“She came back?”
“Yes. She realized I was in the office.”
“What happened?”
“She tried to take the folder.”
Megan sat forward.
“Did she?”
“No.”
“Where is it?”
“I have it.”
I gripped the phone.
“What’s inside?”
Thomas took a breath.
“Copies of your pay stubs. Your Social Security number. Your driver’s license.”
The room seemed to shrink around me.
“Why?”
“I don’t know.”
Then I heard a car door through the phone.
Thomas stopped talking.
“Dad?” Megan said.
No answer.
“Thomas?”
He whispered, “Someone just pulled into the driveway.”
I heard footsteps.
Then Linda’s voice in the distance.
“Thomas?”
He whispered, “Stay where you are.”
The call ended.
Megan immediately tried him back.
No answer.
Again.
No answer.
My phone rang.
Ryan.
I rejected it.
Then a text appeared.
You should have come home when I asked.
A second later, Megan’s phone buzzed.
A message from Thomas.
One sentence.
DO NOT COME HERE.
Then nothing.
Megan stood.
“I’m calling the police.”
Before she could dial, somebody knocked on our hotel room door.
Three slow knocks.
We both froze.
Nobody knew where we were.
At least, nobody was supposed to.
The knock came again.
Then Ryan’s voice sounded from the hallway.
“Emily.”
May you like
My blood turned cold.
“I know you’re in there.”
