Chapter 8
Michael didn't sleep.
Neither did I.
By morning, the house felt like it had been holding its breath all night.
Detective Ramos warned us not to jump to conclusions about Robert's death.
Old accidents generated strange details.
Memories changed.
Families built theories.
Photographs could be manipulated.
But Michael could no longer hear the word accident without questioning it.
At eight in the morning, Ramos returned.
“We located the original crash report.”
Michael stood before the detective had finished entering the room.
“And?”
“The report noted possible brake failure.”
My stomach dropped.
Karen gripped the kitchen counter.
“What?”
Michael stared at her.
“Did you know?”
“No.”
Ramos lifted a hand.
“The official conclusion was that road conditions and mechanical failure contributed to the crash. There was no evidence of intentional tampering.”
“Was Frank investigated?” Michael asked.
“Not in connection with the crash.”
“Why not?”
“Because he was already in federal custody.”
That stopped everyone.
Michael frowned.
“Then Mom's message makes no sense.”
“Unless she wasn't accusing Frank of physically cutting a brake line.”
I looked at Ramos.
“What else could she mean?”
“We don't know.”
The search of Linda's former house had revealed nothing behind the basement panel except an empty compartment.
Whatever had once been there was gone.
But new information came from another source.
The current homeowner found an envelope wedged behind the shelving during the police search.
It contained an old photograph of Robert, Linda, and Frank at a company picnic.
On the back, Robert had written:
If anything happens to me, check account 7714.
The account number was incomplete.
Four digits only.
But it was enough to restart an old financial investigation.
Ramos believed Robert may have discovered hidden money connected to Frank's fraud.
If so, Linda may have known.
Maybe Robert had been gathering evidence.
Maybe Linda had found it after his death.
Maybe Frank had spent years believing she had it.
The theories multiplied faster than facts.
Then the bank called.
The twenty-two-thousand-dollar transfer had been frozen before it could move again.
Karen nearly collapsed with relief.
But the sixty thousand already in her account was now under investigation.
The smaller transfers from our accounts totaled nearly thirty-four thousand over eleven months.
Michael stared at the figure.
“How did we not notice?”
“Because she moved it in small amounts,” I said.
“And because we trusted her.”
That hurt him.
But it was true.
Then the front doorbell rang.
Every person in the room froze.
Police had stationed an unmarked car nearby.
Michael checked the doorbell camera.
A woman stood outside.
Mid-fifties.
Blonde hair.
Red coat.
I didn't recognize her.
Karen did.
“Oh my God.”
“Who?” I asked.
“That's Denise.”
“Who is Denise?”
“Frank's ex-wife.”
Detective Ramos immediately went to the door.
Denise entered carrying a large envelope.
She looked around nervously.
“I heard Frank was missing.”
Ramos asked, “How?”
“News travels.”
“What do you want?”
She held up the envelope.
“To make sure he doesn't ruin another family.”
We sat at the dining table.
Denise refused coffee.
Her hands shook.
“I was married to Frank for twenty-six years.”
Michael studied her.
“Did you know my father?”
“Yes.”
“Did you know my mother?”
Denise looked at Karen.
“Yes.”
Something in the way she answered made me sit straighter.
“How well?” I asked.
Denise gave a humorless laugh.
“Well enough.”
Michael's face hardened.
“What does that mean?”
Denise looked at him.
“Your mother and Frank had an affair.”
The room exploded into silence.
Karen whispered, “No.”
Michael stared at Denise.
“How long?”
“Off and on for years.”
“No.”
“I have proof.”
She opened the envelope.
Letters.
Photographs.
Printed emails.
Some dated more than fifteen years earlier.
Linda and Frank at restaurants.
Linda and Frank standing too close outside a hotel.
One photograph showed Frank kissing Linda.
Karen pushed the picture away.
“This is fake.”
“I wish.”
Michael looked destroyed.
“My father knew?”
“I think he suspected.”
“Did Frank kill him?”
Denise's eyes widened.
“What?”
I showed her the photograph Linda had sent.
The crash.
The brake line.
Denise studied it.
Then shook her head.
“Frank was in prison when Robert died.”
“We know.”
“But...”
Everyone leaned forward.
“But what?”
Denise looked frightened now.
“Frank blamed Robert for his conviction.”
“How?”
“Robert found the fake invoices. Frank always believed Robert was the one who gave investigators enough evidence to build the case.”
Michael looked at the letters.
“And my mother?”
Denise laughed bitterly.
“Your mother begged Frank to stop stealing before he was caught.”
“So she knew?”
“She knew something.”
“Did she help him?”
“I don't know.”
Denise pulled out one final envelope.
“This came to me two weeks before Frank was sentenced.”
Inside was a copy of a handwritten letter.
Frank's handwriting.
Linda,
Robert is going to destroy everything. If he goes to the authorities, you know what happens to us. Find the ledger before he does. If you don't, we both lose.
Michael read it three times.
“What ledger?”
Denise shook her head.
“I never knew.”
Detective Ramos took the letter.
“Why didn't you turn this over years ago?”
“I was ashamed.”
“You could have helped investigators.”
“I was raising two kids while my husband went to prison. I wanted the whole thing dead.”
She looked at Michael.
“But when I saw his name again yesterday, I knew nothing was dead.”
My phone rang.
This time it was the police station.
Officer Grant.
“We found Linda's car.”
“Where?”
“Airport parking garage.”
Michael stood.
“She left the country?”
“We don't think so.”
“Why?”
“Security footage shows her and Frank leaving the garage in another vehicle.”
“What vehicle?”
“A dark SUV.”
Karen suddenly stood.
“My SUV.”
Everyone turned toward her.
“The one Mom borrowed?”
“I thought she took my sedan.”
“No. She took the spare key to my SUV too.”
Michael swore under his breath.
Officer Grant continued.
“We have an alert out.”
Then she paused.
“There's something else.”
I closed my eyes.
Of course there was.
“What?”
“We searched Linda's abandoned car.”
“And?”
“We found several bags.”
“What was inside?”
“Clothing. Cash. Two passports.”
“Whose?”
“One belonged to Linda.”
“And the other?”
Officer Grant hesitated.
“Noah's.”
Every sound disappeared.
I looked toward the living room.
My son was sitting on the floor, headphones on, watching a cartoon.
My hands went numb.
“How did she get his passport?”
Michael whispered, “The safe.”
The photographs from the storage unit.
She had photographed our safe.
She must have learned the code.
My stomach twisted so violently I thought I would be sick.
Officer Grant kept speaking.
“There were also two plane tickets printed inside the bag.”
I could barely force out the question.
“Where?”
“Mexico City.”
Michael's face turned gray.
“When?”
“Tomorrow morning.”
I looked at Noah again.
Linda hadn't only been preparing to run.
She had been preparing to take my son with her.
Karen started crying.
Michael stood completely still.
Then I remembered something Noah had said days earlier.
Grandma said Mom could be replaced.
May you like
At the time, I thought it was just cruelty.
Now I wondered if Linda had meant it literally.
