Chapter 7
Police treated the message as a threat.
Michael treated it like a declaration of war.
I had never seen him so furious.
He wanted to drive around looking for Linda himself.
Officer Grant stopped him before he reached the door.
“That's exactly what you are not going to do.”
“She threatened my wife.”
“And she may have a firearm.”
“Which is why I need to find her.”
“No. Which is why you need to let us find her.”
Michael looked ready to argue.
I called his name.
He turned.
“Stay.”
That one word stopped him.
He looked at me.
Then at Noah.
He came back.
Police traced the number, but it had been sent from an internet-based service.
The photograph itself gave them little information.
No obvious landmarks.
No license plate.
No reflection clear enough to identify the location.
But Frank Delaney gave them somewhere to start.
Frank had been released from federal prison fourteen months earlier.
According to investigators, he was living in a rented house two counties away.
By the time officers arrived, the place was empty.
Not abandoned.
Recently emptied.
Food in the refrigerator.
Warm coffee in a mug.
Two suitcases missing from a closet.
Frank and Linda had planned enough to disappear quickly.
The question was why.
That afternoon, detectives from the financial crimes unit came to our house.
The storage unit had turned Linda's assault case into something much larger.
Detective Ramos spread copies of bank statements across our dining table.
“We believe your mother-in-law has been accessing multiple accounts using stolen identity information.”
“How many?” Michael asked.
“Still determining.”
“Just ours?”
“No.”
Karen looked up.
“Mine too?”
“Yes.”
She closed her eyes.
Ramos pointed to several transfers.
“Small amounts first. Five hundred. Eight hundred. Twelve hundred. Then larger transfers.”
I looked at the dates.
Some went back almost a year.
Before Linda moved into our house.
“What did she do with the money?”
“Most of it appears to have moved through several accounts.”
“Frank?”
“Possibly.”
Michael leaned forward.
“What was the end goal?”
Ramos looked at him.
“We think they were trying to accumulate enough money to leave the country.”
Karen stared.
“Mom was going to run?”
“That's one possibility.”
“Why?”
Ramos hesitated.
“Because Frank may still owe money.”
“To who?”
“We don't know.”
The answer frightened me more than if he had named someone.
Ramos continued.
“Frank Delaney was convicted of fraud, but investigators always suspected he hid a portion of the stolen funds before his arrest. That money was never recovered.”
Michael looked confused.
“What does that have to do with Mom?”
“We're investigating whether she knew where some of it was.”
Karen's face changed.
“No.”
Everyone looked at her.
She stood slowly.
“No.”
“Karen?” Michael said.
She started pacing.
“After Dad died, Mom went crazy cleaning out the garage.”
“So?”
“She found a metal box.”
Michael frowned.
“What box?”
“She wouldn't let me see inside.”
My skin prickled.
“She said it was old business paperwork.”
Detective Ramos leaned forward.
“When was this?”
“About eight years ago.”
“Where did the box go?”
“I don't know.”
Michael looked at his sister.
“You never told me?”
“I forgot!”
“How do you forget something like that?”
“Because at the time it was a box!”
She stopped.
Then her eyes widened.
“The basement.”
“What?”
“Mom's old house had a false panel behind the basement shelves.”
Michael looked startled.
“How do you know?”
“Dad built it.”
Ramos stood immediately.
“Who owns the property now?”
“Mom sold it after Dad died.”
“Address?”
Karen gave it to him.
Officers were dispatched.
While we waited, I watched Michael.
His entire childhood was being rewritten in real time.
Every family secret seemed to hide another.
Noah sat at the table drawing.
He had refused to leave my side all day.
I worried about what all of this was doing to him.
I took him to the living room.
“Can we talk?”
He nodded.
“You know none of this is your responsibility, right?”
He looked down.
“Grandma is mad because I recorded her.”
“Grandma is responsible for what Grandma did.”
“If I didn't record her, Dad would've believed her.”
The words cut straight through me.
Michael heard them from the doorway.
His face fell.
I didn't interrupt.
Noah looked at him.
“You looked mad at Mom.”
Michael came into the room.
“I did.”
“Because you believed Grandma.”
“For a few seconds, yes.”
Noah's chin trembled.
“Why?”
Michael sat on the floor across from him.
“Because I made a mistake.”
“Do you love Grandma more?”
“No.”
“Grandma says you do.”
Michael's eyes filled.
“Grandma says things that aren't true when she wants people to do what she wants.”
Noah frowned.
“That's lying.”
“Yes.”
“Then why did you believe her?”
Michael took a long breath.
“Because I've been believing some of her lies for a very long time.”
Noah thought about that.
“Are you going to believe her again?”
Michael glanced at me.
Then back at our son.
“Not instead of evidence. And not instead of listening to your mom.”
It wasn't a perfect answer.
But it was honest.
Noah crawled forward and hugged him.
Michael held him tightly.
I looked away because I didn't want them to see me cry.
My phone rang.
Unknown number.
Every muscle in my body tightened.
Michael saw the screen.
“Don't answer.”
I almost listened.
Then the phone rang again.
Same number.
Detective Ramos returned from the dining room.
“Put it on speaker.”
I answered.
“Hello?”
Silence.
Then Linda's voice.
“Emily.”
My stomach clenched.
Michael stood.
“Where are you?”
Linda ignored him.
“I need to speak to Emily alone.”
Ramos shook his head at me.
I said, “Everyone can hear you.”
Linda sighed.
“Of course.”
“What do you want?”
“You've made everything much worse than it needed to be.”
I almost couldn't believe her.
“You beat me.”
“You humiliated me.”
“You stole from us.”
“I borrowed money that should've been mine anyway.”
Michael shouted, “How is our money yours?”
“Because I sacrificed my life for you!”
“No. Dad worked for that family too.”
At Robert's name, Linda went quiet.
Then she said, “Your father wasn't who you think he was.”
Karen had entered the room.
She froze.
“What does that mean?” Michael asked.
Linda laughed softly.
“Ask Karen.”
Karen went pale.
“I don't know what she's talking about.”
“Oh, don't you?”
“Mom, where are you?”
“Safe.”
“Do you have Dad's gun?”
Silence.
Karen started crying.
“Mom?”
Linda finally spoke.
“The gun isn't important.”
That was not an answer.
Detective Ramos quietly signaled another officer.
They were tracing the call.
I tried to keep Linda talking.
“What do you want from me?”
Her tone softened.
“I want you to stop.”
“Stop what?”
“Talking to police.”
I looked at Ramos.
He nodded for me to continue.
“And if I don't?”
Linda breathed into the phone.
“Then things will come out.”
“What things?”
“Things Michael doesn't need to know.”
Michael stepped closer.
“I already know you're a thief.”
Linda's voice changed.
“Do you know why your father really died?”
Silence filled the room.
Michael looked like someone had struck him.
His father had died in a car accident.
A rainy night.
A highway curve.
A truck driver who lost control.
That was the story.
“What are you saying?” Michael whispered.
Linda didn't answer him.
She spoke to me.
“Emily, if you care about your husband, stop digging.”
Then the call disconnected.
Michael stood frozen.
Karen covered her mouth.
Detective Ramos immediately spoke into his radio.
Then my phone buzzed.
One new message.
A photograph.
It showed Robert's old car after the crash.
I had seen photos before.
But this one was different.
It was taken before the vehicle had been moved from the roadside.
Someone had drawn a red circle around the front brake line.
May you like
Underneath were three words.
ASK FRANK WHY.
