Chapter 5: The Records They Collected Behind My Back
I sat upright so quickly that pain pulled across my chest.
"What records?"" I asked.
On the other end of the line, Mrs. Peterson sounded uncomfortable.
"Emma's attendance records, emergency contacts, and some of the notes from her developmental assessments. A man came to the office and said he was working with your family attorney.""
I glanced at Dad.
He immediately signaled for me to put the call on speaker.
"Did you give him the records?"" I asked.
"We gave him copies of the documents he requested. He showed us a letter authorizing the release.""
"Who was he?""
"He introduced himself as an investigator. I remember his first name was Thomas, but I don't have his business card in front of me.""
"Did I sign anything?""
There was a pause.
"No. The letter had Daniel's signature.""
My stomach twisted.
"Did he say why he needed the records?""
"He told us there was a family matter involving Emma's welfare. He said the information would help make sure she received appropriate care.""
I closed my eyes.
Daniel had gone behind my back to obtain information about our daughter.
"Mrs. Peterson, did you notice anything unusual about the request?""
"At the time, no. But afterward, I wondered why he asked specifically about the days Emma arrived late or became upset during drop-off.""
I remembered those mornings.
Emma had started preschool at three. Sometimes she cried when I left her at the classroom door. Sometimes she clung to my coat and begged me to stay.
It was normal for a young child to struggle with separation.
I'd sat with her, reassured her, and worked with her teachers to establish a routine.
Daniel had known all of that.
"Did you tell him about those mornings?"" I asked.
"He asked whether Emma ever appeared distressed when you brought her to school. I told him she occasionally cried, but she usually settled within a few minutes.""
"And what did he say?""
"He asked me to put that in writing.""
My fingers began to tremble.
Dad leaned closer to the phone.
"Mrs. Peterson, this is Richard Bennett. Please preserve the original request, the letter, and any communications concerning the records. Don't send anything else until the school's legal adviser has reviewed the situation.""
"Of course, Mr. Bennett.""
After the call ended, I stared at the ceiling.
"They've been collecting evidence against me for months.""
Dad didn't dismiss my fear.
"It appears that way. But collecting records doesn't mean they've proved anything. We need to see exactly what they requested and how they represented the purpose.""
Mr. Collins was already typing notes.
"We should obtain the complete file, identify the investigator, and determine whether the request complied with the school's release policy.""
I rubbed my forehead.
"What if Emma's teachers believe those lies?""
"Then they'll have an opportunity to explain what they actually observed," Dad said.
"Your relationship with Emma isn't defined by a selectively edited report.""
A small voice interrupted us.
"Mommy?""
Emma had awakened.
She pushed her stuffed reindeer aside and looked around the room.
"Why are you talking about my school?""
I immediately moved closer.
"Sweetheart, we're just making sure all your school papers stay safe.""
She frowned.
"Did I do something bad?""
"No, baby. Nothing at all.""
She looked at Dad.
"Grandpa, am I going to have to live somewhere else?""
The question cut straight through me.
Dad crouched beside her bed.
"Why would you think that?""
"Daddy said Grandma might take me on a special trip if Mommy got too upset.""
I felt the room tilt.
"When did Daddy tell you that?"" I asked gently.
Emma twisted the edge of her blanket between her fingers.
"Last week. He said Grandma had a pretty room for me, with a big bed and lots of toys. He said I might sleep there for a while.""
Dad's expression changed, but his voice stayed warm.
"Did he say why?""
Emma nodded.
"He said Mommy needed to rest because she gets sad a lot.""
I held her close, careful not to press her against my injured chest.
"Emma, you can always tell me when something worries you. You haven't done anything wrong, and you don't have to choose between Mommy and Daddy.""
"Will Grandma make you go away?""
"No, sweetheart. I'm here.""
I couldn't promise what would happen in court or what Daniel might do next.
But I could promise that I would never ask my daughter to carry the burden of our adult problems.
After Emma fell asleep again, Dad stepped into the hallway with Mr. Collins.
I heard him make several calls.
One was to the trust administrator. Another was to the attorney handling my marriage. A third was to someone he addressed as Chief Financial Officer.
I didn't hear the details, but I caught one sentence.
"Preserve every record associated with the Harrington transaction. No further funds are to be released without the required review.""
When Dad returned, he carried a folder.
"Sarah, I need to explain something about the agreement Daniel mentioned at dinner.""
I sat up carefully.
"The eight million dollars?""
"Yes. Bennett Capital was considering a secured investment in Harrington Development. The company presented a business plan showing that the money would refinance an overdue loan and complete a residential project.""
"Did you believe them?""
"The initial financial projections were plausible. But the legal documents raised questions about your consent and the use of certain assets. That's why the remaining funds were never released.""
"Could the investment have saved their business?""
"Possibly. But a legitimate investment requires accurate information and valid authorization.""
He opened the folder.
"There's another concern. The company reported that the first four million dollars had been used to stabilize its operations. However, some of the transfers appear inconsistent with the stated purpose.""
"Melissa's boutique.""
"Among other payments.""
I looked at the documents.
"Could they have used my signature to take more money?""
"They tried to use it to support the transaction. Whether additional funds were obtained elsewhere is something we must investigate.""
I swallowed.
"And if they lose their business, they'll blame me.""
Dad gave a weary smile.
"They may blame you. That doesn't make you responsible.""
A knock came at the door.
Mr. Collins returned, holding a printed email.
"We've identified the investigator who contacted Emma's school.""
"Who is he?"" I asked.
"Thomas Reed. He's a licensed private investigator who has worked for several local firms. We contacted his office to confirm the engagement.""
"And?""
"He says Daniel hired him to document concerns about your parenting.""
My heart sank.
"Did he find anything?""
"His preliminary report includes the school records, photographs of your home, and statements from two neighbors.""
I stared at him.
"Photographs of my home?""
"Taken from public areas, according to the report.""
Dad took the document.
"Who are the neighbors?""
Mr. Collins named them.
One was our next-door neighbor, a retired teacher who sometimes watched Emma play in the garden.
The other was a woman who had argued with me over a parking space six months earlier.
I almost laughed at the absurdity of it.
Then I noticed the date on one of the photographs.
It was taken on a Tuesday afternoon when I'd been at the hospital with Emma for an ear infection.
The report described the photograph as showing me leaving the house while Emma was distressed.
But I hadn't been in the photograph at all.
The woman in the picture was Daniel's sister, Melissa, carrying Emma's backpack.
I looked up.
"Why would they describe this as evidence against me?""
Mr. Collins leaned over the page.
For the first time, he looked genuinely disturbed.
"Because the caption identifies the woman as you.""
Dad's expression hardened.
"Get me the original photograph.""
Mr. Collins nodded and stepped into the hallway.
I stared at the image.
They hadn't simply misunderstood what happened.
Someone had labeled a photograph of another woman as me and placed it in a report intended to question my fitness as a mother.
My phone buzzed.
A message from an unknown number appeared.
*Stop asking questions about the trust. Daniel is trying to protect Emma. You should be grateful he's willing to take responsibility for your mistakes.*
I showed it to Dad.
He read it without replying.
Then another message appeared.
This one included a photograph.
It showed Emma standing outside our house beside Linda.
The date stamp was from the previous afternoon.
Beneath the image was a single sentence.
*Ask your father why Emma's inheritance was created in the first place.*
I looked at Dad.
He went completely still.
"What's wrong?"" I asked.
He took the phone from my hand and examined the photograph.
Then he sat beside me.
"Sarah, there's something about Emma's inheritance that I've never explained to you.""
My chest tightened.
"What is it?""
May you like
Dad looked toward my sleeping daughter.
"Your grandmother didn't create that trust simply to leave Emma money. She created it because, years ago, someone in the Harrington family tried to claim something that belonged to you.""
