Chapter 3
Dad put the call on speaker.
A woman's professional voice filled the kitchen.
“Mr. Bennett, before I discuss details, I need to verify some information.”
Dad answered every security question.
His birthday.
The last four digits of his Social Security number.
My grandmother's full name.
The representative paused.
“Thank you. I'm calling from our fraud department regarding activity on the estate-linked savings account ending in 4419.”
Dad gripped the counter.
“I thought that account was closed.”
“It remains open.”
He looked at Diane.
She wouldn't meet his eyes.
“How much is in it?”
Another pause.
“The current available balance is $318.72.”
Dad looked confused.
“What was it before?”
“Sir, the balance approximately four months ago was $27,940.15.”
I covered my mouth.
Trey whispered, “Oh my God.”
Diane backed toward the wall.
Dad didn't move.
Twenty-seven thousand dollars.
My grandmother had spent her entire life saving.
She clipped coupons even when she didn't need to.
She reused gift bags until they fell apart.
She gave me twenty dollars every birthday and acted like she was handing me a fortune.
That money had been hers.
Then part of her estate.
Dad's voice sounded strange.
“Can you tell me where it went?”
“I can see multiple transfers, but because the account is currently under review, I recommend you visit a branch with identification and estate documents.”
“Whose name received the transfers?”
The representative hesitated.
“I can tell you the transactions were initiated using online credentials associated with an authorized user.”
Dad stared at Diane.
“Which authorized user?”
“Sir, I can't make a legal determination regarding who initiated them.”
“I understand. What name is attached to the recipient account?”
The answer came quietly.
“Diane Bennett.”
Trey sat down.
Actually collapsed into a chair.
I couldn't move.
Dad's expression emptied.
He thanked the woman, ended the call, and placed the phone carefully on the counter.
Diane spoke first.
“It isn't what you think.”
Dad looked at her.
“Then tell me what I think.”
She swallowed.
“You were overwhelmed after your mother died.”
“So you stole from her estate?”
“I handled things.”
“You transferred twenty-seven thousand dollars.”
“Not all at once.”
“That makes it better?”
“I used some of it for household expenses.”
Dad laughed once.
There was no humor in it.
“What household expenses?”
“Groceries. Utilities. Trey's situation.”
“How much went to Trey?”
Diane glanced at her son.
Trey immediately stood.
“No. Don't look at me.”
“Trey—”
“I didn't know about Grandma's money.”
“She wasn't your grandmother,” I said before I could stop myself.
Diane's head snapped toward me.
I didn't care.
My grandmother had been kind to Trey, even though he barely visited her.
She bought him Christmas gifts.
She asked about his work.
She told him he could call her Grandma if he wanted.
He never did.
Now her money was gone.
Dad rubbed both hands over his face.
“I need the truth. Right now.”
Diane started crying.
Real tears.
For one second, the old part of me wanted to feel sorry for her.
Then I remembered my balance.
$12.43.
“I was trying to hold everything together.”
Dad stared at her.
“Our house is paid on time.”
“I had debts.”
“What debts?”
She said nothing.
“What debts, Diane?”
“Credit cards.”
“How much?”
She whispered, “Around twelve thousand.”
Trey stared at her.
“You told me you paid those off.”
“I thought I could.”
“With Grandma's money?”
“I was going to replace it.”
Dad slammed both palms onto the counter.
“With what?”
Diane flinched.
I had never seen him lose control like that.
Dad wasn't violent.
He didn't scream.
But the pain in his face was worse than shouting.
“You don't work!”
Diane's cheeks flushed.
“I take care of this home.”
“And I have never once said that wasn't work. I have never once made you beg for money. You had access to our joint account. You had a card. You knew exactly what came in and what went out.”
“You questioned everything.”
“I asked why our grocery bill doubled!”
“Because you treat me like a child!”
“I treated you like my wife!”
His voice cracked on the last word.
Silence.
Dad turned away.
I saw tears in his eyes.
Diane saw them too.
She moved toward him.
“David.”
He stepped back.
“Don't.”
She froze.
Dad pointed toward the living room.
“Sit down.”
“What?”
“Sit down.”
“I don't have to—”
“Then leave.”
Diane looked at Trey.
He stared at the floor.
For the first time, he didn't defend her.
She slowly walked into the living room.
Dad looked at me.
“Get your college account records.”
Then at Trey.
“You have a choice.”
Trey swallowed.
“What choice?”
“You can tell me everything you know.”
“I told you.”
“No. You told me enough because you panicked.”
Dad's eyes hardened.
“Now tell me everything.”
Trey lowered himself onto the couch.
Diane whispered, “Don't.”
Dad turned to her.
“One more time.”
She stopped.
Trey stared at his mother.
Then something shifted in his face.
Maybe he realized she had been lying to him too.
Maybe he was scared he would be blamed.
Maybe he finally understood how serious this was.
“Last month,” he said, “Mom gave me seven thousand.”
Dad closed his eyes.
“For what?”
“My attorney wanted a retainer.”
“Seven thousand?”
“And the impound fees.”
“The car?”
Trey nodded.
“Then she gave me another three thousand.”
“Why?”
Trey looked ashamed.
“I owed somebody.”
Dad's face tightened.
“For what?”
“I borrowed money.”
“What for?”
Silence.
Diane answered.
“Sports betting.”
I stared at Trey.
He looked away.
“You gambled?”
“It wasn't like that.”
“What does that mean?”
“I thought I could make it back.”
I almost laughed.
The sentence sounded exactly like Diane.
Dad sat across from him.
“How much do you owe?”
“Nothing now.”
“Because your mother paid it?”
Trey nodded.
“With stolen money?”
Trey squeezed his eyes shut.
“I didn't know where it came from.”
Dad looked at Diane.
“So ten thousand went to Trey.”
She wiped her cheeks.
“Yes.”
“Twelve thousand to your credit cards.”
“Yes.”
“That leaves roughly five thousand.”
Diane didn't answer.
Dad's face changed.
“What happened to the rest?”
“I don't remember.”
“You don't remember what you did with five thousand dollars?”
“It was different things.”
“What things?”
She looked toward the stairs.
That glance was enough.
Dad stood.
“What is upstairs?”
“Nothing.”
He started walking.
Diane jumped up.
“David!”
He didn't stop.
We all followed him.
Dad went straight to their bedroom.
Diane tried to move around him.
He blocked her with his arm and opened the closet.
Shoes.
Clothes.
Storage bins.
Nothing strange.
Then Trey said, “The suitcase.”
Diane spun around.
“Trey!”
He pointed at the top shelf.
“There.”
Dad reached up and pulled down a small black suitcase.
It was heavier than it looked.
He put it on the bed.
“Don't open that,” Diane said.
Dad unzipped it.
Inside were envelopes.
Dozens of them.
Bank statements.
Credit card bills.
Receipts.
A second phone.
And cash.
Dad picked up the phone.
“What is this?”
Diane stood in the doorway.
No answer.
Dad turned it on.
The screen lit up.
There were dozens of unread messages.
Most came from a contact saved as “R.”
Dad opened the most recent one.
His face changed.
“What?” I asked.
He didn't answer.
Then Trey walked closer and read over his shoulder.
“Mom.”
Diane's shoulders fell.
Dad read the message aloud.
“Did he notice the missing estate money yet? We need to move the rest before he does.”
My stomach turned.
Dad looked up.
“Who is R?”
Diane said nothing.
His voice dropped.
“Who is R?”
Trey whispered, “I know.”
Everyone looked at him.
Trey looked sick.
“It's Rick.”
Dad's entire body went rigid.
I knew that name.
Rick Lawson.
Diane's ex-husband.
Trey's father.
The man she claimed she hadn't spoken to in years.
Dad stared at her.
“You're talking to your ex-husband?”
Diane finally whispered, “David, please.”
He scrolled through the messages.
The more he read, the quieter he became.
Then he stopped.
His eyes lifted to Diane.
“You were planning to leave.”
I felt the floor disappear beneath me.
Diane started crying again.
Dad held up the phone.
“You and Rick were going to take the money and leave.”
“No.”
“I can read.”
“It wasn't decided.”
“You wrote, ‘Once Maya's account is empty, David won't have enough liquid cash to fight anything.’”
I stopped breathing.
Dad looked at me.
Then back at her.
The next message was worse.
Dad read it aloud.
“‘After her eighteenth birthday, he won't be able to control where she goes anyway.’”
I stared at Diane.
“What does that mean?”
She wouldn't answer.
Dad scrolled farther.
Then his expression changed from heartbreak to fear.
He stepped toward me.
“Maya, go upstairs.”
“What?”
“Lock your bedroom door.”
“Dad—”
“Now.”
Diane suddenly moved.
Dad blocked her.
“What did you read?” I asked.
He looked at the screen once more.
Then at me.
“There's a message about you.”
My skin went cold.
“What message?”
Dad hesitated.
Then he said, “Rick asked Diane whether you still keep your birth certificate and Social Security card in your desk.”
I stared at her.
She looked away.
Dad picked up his phone.
May you like
This time he didn't call the bank.
He called the police.
