Chapter 5
Rachel hated the anonymous messages.
“So do I.”
“Then stop treating them like clues in a mystery novel.”
“I’m not.”
“You want to go to the storage facility.”
I looked at her.
“I do.”
“No.”
“Rachel.”
“Absolutely not.”
We were sitting in her office the morning after I received the photograph.
The storage facility’s sign was visible behind Patricia.
BRIARWOOD STORAGE.
Unit 314.
Rachel had already sent the information to police.
“They can investigate it.”
“What if Patricia empties it first?”
“Then police document that.”
“What if the evidence disappears?”
“Sarah, you have a child. You have an active protective order. Your husband has already violated it. You do not chase anonymous tips.”
I hated that she was right.
“What do you think is inside?”
“Probably records.”
“Or cash.”
“Maybe.”
“Or nothing.”
“Exactly.”
I stared at the photograph again.
“Who is sending these?”
Rachel folded her arms.
“Mark is my first guess.”
“Why?”
“He’s involved, scared, and trying to shift blame.”
“Then why not just talk?”
“Because talking creates evidence against him.”
That made sense.
It also made me angrier.
My entire marriage had become a room full of people trying not to be the one holding the knife.
At noon, police executed a search related to the bank-fraud investigation.
They didn’t tell me what they found immediately.
I learned first from Patricia.
She called from a new number.
I almost didn’t answer.
Then I remembered Rachel’s instructions.
Save everything.
Document everything.
I accepted the call and turned on my recording app only after telling her I was recording.
“What do you want?”
“You sent police to my storage unit.”
“I sent your information to investigators.”
“You had no right.”
“The money came from a mortgage forged in my name.”
“That money belongs to Daniel.”
“No.”
“He is your husband.”
“Soon to be ex-husband.”
Silence.
“You filed?”
“Yes.”
“You selfish little—”
“Careful.”
She stopped.
“You think divorce will solve this?”
“It solves one problem.”
“Daniel will never let you take Lily.”
The threat was so casual.
So practiced.
“You’ve been planning that for months.”
Patricia’s breathing changed.
“Planning what?”
“I found your folder.”
She said nothing.
“The custody petition. The fake evidence. The doctor.”
Still nothing.
“Did you arrange the prescription?”
“You have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Then tell me.”
“Daniel came to me because he was worried about you.”
“Five months ago?”
“You were exhausted.”
“I was working.”
“You were drinking.”
“No.”
“You drank at dinner.”
“A glass of wine with dinner is not alcoholism.”
“You were unstable.”
I almost laughed.
“Was I unstable before or after you started photographing me asleep?”
Patricia’s voice turned cold.
“Those photographs show what they show.”
“Who took them?”
“I don’t know.”
“Daniel?”
No answer.
“You?”
No answer.
I changed direction.
“Why was there a camera in my office?”
She hung up.
I sent the recording to Rachel.
An hour later, Michael called.
“You were right about the storage unit.”
“What did they find?”
“Financial records.”
“How many?”
“A lot.”
“What kind?”
“Loan statements. Copies of identification documents. Credit applications.”
“In my name?”
“Some.”
I sat down.
“Whose others?”
Michael hesitated.
“Daniel’s former business partner.”
“What?”
“And Mark’s ex-wife.”
I froze.
Mark had divorced three years earlier.
His ex-wife, Jenna, had moved to Colorado.
“What does that mean?”
“We’re investigating.”
“Was Patricia stealing identities from other people?”
“I can’t characterize it yet.”
“What else was there?”
“Cash.”
“How much?”
“Twenty-eight thousand.”
“Anything else?”
A pause.
“Copies of your father’s financial records.”
I stood.
“My father?”
“Old statements, tax records, property documents.”
“How did she get them?”
“That’s one of the questions.”
After I hung up, I walked into my father’s office and looked around.
Daniel had access to everything after Dad died.
He had helped me sort paperwork.
Or I thought he had.
Maybe they had been studying my father’s assets for years.
Emily came over after work.
She found me sitting on the floor surrounded by boxes.
“What are you doing?”
“Looking.”
“For what?”
“I don’t know.”
“That’s healthy.”
I gave her a tired look.
She sat beside me.
For the next hour, we sorted records.
Most were ordinary.
Insurance.
Taxes.
Repairs.
Old utility bills.
Then Emily held up a legal envelope.
“What’s this?”
I recognized the firm.
My father’s estate attorney.
Inside was a copy of his trust.
I knew about the trust.
Most of his assets had passed directly to me.
But one page had a handwritten note clipped to it.
Ask Howard re: Lily account at 18.
“What Lily account?”
Emily asked.
“I don’t know.”
I called Howard Benson, my father’s former attorney.
He was semi-retired.
He remembered me immediately.
“Sarah. It’s been years.”
“I’m sorry to call unexpectedly.”
“No apology needed.”
“I found a note from Dad about an account for Lily.”
Silence.
Then Howard said, “I wondered when you’d find that.”
My pulse jumped.
“What account?”
“Your father established an education trust for her.”
I stared at Emily.
“How much?”
“At the time of his death, approximately one hundred seventy thousand dollars.”
I couldn’t speak.
“It has been invested conservatively since then.”
“Why didn’t I know?”
“Your father instructed that you were to be informed when Lily turned ten unless circumstances required earlier disclosure.”
“Why?”
“He was worried Daniel would view it as family money.”
My eyes filled.
Again.
Dad had known.
“How much is there now?”
Howard checked.
“Just over two hundred thirty thousand.”
I covered my mouth.
Emily whispered, “What?”
I held up my hand.
“Has anyone tried to access it?”
Howard became quiet.
“When?”
My heart stopped.
“What?”
“You asked whether anyone tried.”
“Yes.”
“There was an inquiry last year.”
“From Daniel?”
“The caller identified himself as Daniel.”
I closed my eyes.
“What did he want?”
“He wanted to know whether distributions could be made for housing expenses.”
“The house?”
“Possibly.”
“What did you tell him?”
“That he had no authority over the trust.”
“What happened?”
“He became angry.”
“Did he ever contact you again?”
“No.”
Then Howard added, “But someone sent a letter three months later claiming you wanted Daniel added as a co-trustee.”
I stood.
“What?”
“I called you.”
“You did?”
“The number in our file had been changed.”
“To what?”
He read it.
I didn’t recognize the number.
Howard continued.
“I was suspicious because your father specifically prohibited Daniel from serving as trustee. I ignored the letter.”
“Do you still have it?”
“Of course.”
“Please send it to Rachel Pierce.”
“I will.”
When I ended the call, Emily stared at me.
“Dad left Lily money?”
I nodded.
“And Daniel tried to get it?”
“Yes.”
The room suddenly made sense in a new way.
My private savings account hadn’t simply angered Daniel because I was hiding money.
It had reminded him of another account.
A much larger one.
One he couldn’t touch.
Maybe he had been afraid I had learned about the trust.
Maybe that was why the dinner exploded.
My phone rang.
Rachel.
“The custody hearing has been moved up.”
“To when?”
“Monday.”
“That’s three days.”
“I know.”
“Why?”
“Daniel’s attorney claims the protective order is preventing him from seeing Lily and causing emotional harm.”
I closed my eyes.
“What do we do?”
“We prepare.”
Monday morning arrived too quickly.
Daniel entered the courtroom wearing a navy suit.
No handcuffs.
No anger.
He looked calm.
Professional.
Like the man everyone believed him to be.
Patricia sat behind him.
Mark was beside her.
When Lily’s name was mentioned, Daniel lowered his eyes like a grieving father.
I wanted to scream.
Rachel touched my arm.
“Don’t react.”
Daniel’s attorney spoke first.
He described the dinner as “a regrettable marital argument.”
He described the plate as “an impulsive act during escalating conflict.”
Then he described me.
Controlling.
Secretive.
Emotionally volatile.
Someone who had “unilaterally concealed marital assets.”
The college savings account.
I couldn’t believe it.
They were presenting my attempt to protect Lily’s future as evidence against me.
Then came the photographs.
Wine.
Pills.
Me sleeping.
Rachel objected.
The judge allowed them only provisionally, pending authentication.
Daniel’s attorney called Patricia.
She walked to the witness stand dressed in gray.
She looked like someone’s respectable grandmother.
Not a woman whose storage unit contained other people’s financial documents.
She swore to tell the truth.
Then lied immediately.
“I have been worried about Sarah for years.”
My hands clenched.
“She drinks?”
“Frequently.”
“Uses medication?”
“I have seen pills.”
“Has she behaved unpredictably around Lily?”
“Yes.”
Rachel wrote something down.
Daniel’s attorney continued.
“Did you witness an incident at dinner last week?”
“I did.”
“What happened?”
“Sarah became extremely angry when Daniel asked about money.”
I stared at her.
“She stood abruptly. She was yelling. Daniel picked up his plate during the argument, and it slipped from his hand.”
Slipped.
My scar throbbed.
“Did Daniel intentionally strike Sarah?”
“Absolutely not.”
“Did Sarah threaten him?”
Patricia paused dramatically.
“She told him she would destroy him.”
I almost stood.
Rachel’s hand landed on mine beneath the table.
Still.
Daniel’s attorney finished.
Rachel rose.
She approached Patricia slowly.
“Mrs. Carter, you testified that you have been concerned for years?”
“Yes.”
“And yet you regularly stayed in Sarah’s home?”
“Yes.”
“You allowed Sarah to care for Lily?”
“Of course.”
“Alone?”
“Yes.”
“Drive Lily?”
“Yes.”
“Attend school functions?”
“Yes.”
“Take her on trips?”
“Yes.”
“So despite believing Sarah was unstable and abusing alcohol and medication, you never contacted police?”
Patricia tightened.
“No.”
“Child protective services?”
“No.”
“A doctor?”
“No.”
“A school counselor?”
“No.”
“You did, however, help prepare a custody petition five months before the dinner incident, correct?”
Daniel’s lawyer stood.
“Objection.”
Rachel held up a copy.
The judge reviewed it.
Then looked at Patricia.
“Answer.”
Patricia’s face went pale.
“I discussed concerns with my son.”
“Did you keep this document hidden beneath a false bottom in a bedroom drawer?”
“I kept private papers secure.”
“In Sarah’s house?”
“It was also my son’s house.”
Rachel looked at the judge.
“Actually, Your Honor, title records establish the home is Sarah’s separate inherited property.”
Daniel looked down.
Rachel continued.
“Mrs. Carter, what did the word ‘incident’ mean on this list?”
“I don’t know.”
“You wrote the list.”
“I don’t remember.”
“Did you arrange for medication to be prescribed in Sarah’s name?”
“No.”
“Do you know Dr. Elaine Foster?”
Patricia hesitated.
“No.”
Rachel smiled slightly.
That frightened Patricia.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
Rachel picked up another document.
“We subpoenaed Dr. Foster’s appointment records this morning.”
Daniel’s attorney immediately stood.
The judge allowed Rachel to continue.
Rachel turned toward Patricia.
“There was an appointment made under Sarah Carter’s name six months ago.”
Patricia said nothing.
“The appointment was telehealth.”
Silence.
“The email address used belonged to you.”
Daniel turned toward his mother.
For the first time all morning, his calm expression disappeared.
Rachel asked softly, “Would you like to change your answer?”
Patricia stared straight ahead.
May you like
Then she said the four words that changed everything.
“I want an attorney.”
