Chapter 3
I barely slept.
Noah refused to go back to his room.
He curled up on the couch while I sat beside him with my laptop open and every light downstairs turned on.
At 2:17 a.m., he woke up.
“Mom?”
“I’m here.”
He rubbed his eyes.
“Is Mark coming back?”
“No.”
“Ever?”
I hesitated.
“I don’t know.”
He stared at the ceiling.
“I’m sorry I recorded him.”
My heart hurt.
I closed the laptop.
“Why are you sorry?”
“Because maybe if I didn’t, none of this would’ve happened.”
I reached for his hand.
“Noah, listen to me. You did not cause this.”
“But everything was normal yesterday.”
“No. We just didn’t know it wasn’t normal.”
He was quiet.
Then he whispered, “I heard them talking two times before.”
My stomach tightened.
“What?”
“I didn’t record the first times.”
“What did they say?”
“I don’t know everything.”
“Tell me what you remember.”
He sat up.
“Last week, Mark was in the garage. He was talking to Aunt Rachel.”
“You’re sure it was her?”
“Yeah. He said her name.”
“What did he say?”
Noah thought for a moment.
“He said, ‘I’m not taking the fall alone.’”
A cold feeling moved through me.
“What else?”
“She said something. I couldn’t hear. Then he said, ‘You’re the one who told me about the account.’”
I swallowed.
“And the other time?”
“Two nights ago.”
He looked scared.
“Noah, you’re not in trouble.”
“He was outside.”
“Talking to Rachel?”
“I don’t think so.”
“Who?”
“I don’t know.”
He reached for his phone.
“I took a picture.”
He showed me a blurry image through his bedroom window.
Mark stood beside a dark SUV parked across the street.
Another man stood next to him.
Tall.
Gray jacket.
I zoomed in.
The face was unclear.
But I recognized the SUV.
I had seen it before.
At my father’s funeral.
The memory came so suddenly that I almost dropped the phone.
A dark blue SUV had been parked near the cemetery entrance.
I remembered because Dad’s attorney, Thomas Greene, had arrived in one just like it.
I stared at the photo.
“Noah, send this to me.”
He did.
At 7:30 the next morning, I called Thomas.
His assistant answered.
“Greene and Mercer.”
“This is Lisa Bennett. I need to speak to Mr. Greene.”
“Is this regarding an existing matter?”
“My father. Daniel Carter.”
There was a pause.
“One moment.”
Thomas came on less than a minute later.
“Lisa?”
“You remember me.”
“Of course.”
His voice sounded cautious.
“Is something wrong?”
“I need to ask you about my father’s estate.”
Another pause.
“What specifically?”
“My investment account.”
“Lisa, I’m not sure I understand.”
“Who knew about it?”
“You did.”
“Who else?”
“Well, your father.”
“Rachel?”
Silence.
That silence answered before he did.
“Thomas.”
“Your father was very clear about confidentiality.”
“That wasn’t my question.”
He exhaled.
“Your sister was aware there were separate provisions.”
“Did she know the amount?”
“I never disclosed it.”
“Did my father?”
“I can’t speak to private conversations between them.”
I closed my eyes.
“Did Rachel see him the night he died?”
Thomas didn’t answer.
My grip tightened around the phone.
“You were his lawyer.”
“Yes.”
“And his friend.”
“Yes.”
“Please.”
His voice changed.
“Why are you asking?”
“Because Mark told me to.”
“Your husband?”
“We separated last night.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. Just answer me.”
Another long silence.
Then he said, “Your father called me that evening.”
Every muscle in my body went still.
“What time?”
“Around nine.”
“He died after midnight.”
“I know.”
“What did he say?”
Thomas hesitated.
“He wanted to change something.”
My pulse started pounding.
“His will?”
“Not exactly.”
“What, then?”
“Lisa, I think this conversation needs to happen in person.”
“No.”
“Excuse me?”
“I’ve spent twelve hours being told everything is complicated. I’m done with complicated. Tell me.”
He was quiet.
Then he said, “Your father believed someone had been accessing one of his accounts without permission.”
My mouth went dry.
“Who?”
“He didn’t know.”
“How much money?”
“Almost forty thousand dollars.”
I stood up so fast the coffee table shook.
Noah looked over from the kitchen.
“Did he report it?”
“He was going to.”
“What happened?”
“He died.”
The sentence sat between us.
“You think someone killed my father?”
“No. Absolutely not. Your father had serious heart problems. His death was medically consistent with his condition.”
“Then why did Mark tell me to ask Rachel where she was?”
“I don’t know.”
“Did Rachel know about the missing money?”
“Yes.”
“How?”
“Your father confronted her.”
I stopped breathing.
“What?”
“Not because he thought she stole it. He thought she might know something.”
“Why?”
“She had been helping him with bills during his final months.”
I pressed my fingers against my forehead.
“Did she?”
“She denied knowing anything.”
“What did Dad believe?”
“He wasn’t sure.”
I looked at Noah.
He was pretending not to listen.
“Thomas, yesterday eight thousand dollars disappeared from my savings.”
“What?”
“My husband took it.”
“Lisa.”
“He also tried to get me to sign a document giving him access to the investment account Dad left me.”
Thomas’s voice hardened.
“Do not sign anything.”
“I didn’t.”
“Where is the document?”
“With me.”
“Bring it to my office.”
“I will.”
“And Lisa?”
“Yes?”
“Do not tell Rachel you’re coming.”
I hung up.
Noah came closer.
“Was Grandpa’s money stolen too?”
“Maybe.”
“By Aunt Rachel?”
“I don’t know.”
He looked down.
“Mom, there’s something else.”
I almost didn’t want to hear it.
But I nodded.
“Last Christmas, I heard Aunt Rachel and Mark arguing.”
My heart sank.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I thought it was about your present.”
Despite everything, I almost smiled.
“What did they say?”
“Rachel said, ‘You promised me she would never find out.’”
I felt cold.
“And Mark?”
“He said, ‘Then stop showing up here acting guilty.’”
I sat down.
Christmas.
Nine months earlier.
Whatever this was, it hadn’t started with his business failing.
It had been going on much longer.
My phone buzzed.
A text from Mark.
PLEASE DON’T GO TO RACHEL.
I stared at it.
Another message came.
SHE WILL LIE.
Then another.
AND BEFORE YOU ASK, NO, I NEVER SLEPT WITH HER.
That possibility hadn’t even fully formed in my mind yet.
Now it did.
I typed one sentence.
WHAT DID YOU DO?
The typing bubbles appeared.
Disappeared.
Returned.
Finally:
I BORROWED MONEY FROM HER.
I answered:
MY MONEY?
NO.
DAD’S?
The bubbles vanished.
I waited.
Nothing.
Then my doorbell rang.
Noah jumped.
“Stay here.”
I walked slowly to the door and checked the camera.
Rachel stood outside.
She looked terrible.
No makeup.
Hair pulled into a messy ponytail.
Eyes red.
I opened the door but kept the chain in place.
“What are you doing here?”
“We need to talk.”
“Thomas told me not to tell you I was going to see him.”
Her face changed.
Just slightly.
But I saw it.
“Thomas?”
“Yes.”
“What did he tell you?”
“That Dad was missing forty thousand dollars before he died.”
Rachel looked away.
There it was.
Not surprise.
Recognition.
“You knew.”
“Lisa.”
“You knew.”
“I can explain.”
“So explain.”
“Not through a chained door.”
“That’s as far as you’re coming.”
Her eyes filled with tears.
“You really think I’d hurt you?”
“I didn’t think you’d help my husband steal from me either.”
“I didn’t.”
“The recording says otherwise.”
She wiped her face.
“You don’t understand what Mark did.”
“Then tell me.”
“He lied to you.”
“I know.”
“No.”
She shook her head.
“Not about eight thousand dollars.”
My stomach tightened.
“What?”
She leaned toward the opening.
“He’s been lying to you since before your wedding.”
Behind me, Noah moved closer.
Rachel saw him.
Her expression broke.
“Noah, honey—”
“Don’t talk to him.”
She looked back at me.
“Lisa, Mark knew your father before you met him.”
I stopped.
“That’s impossible.”
“No.”
“I met Mark seven years ago.”
“I know.”
“Dad never mentioned him.”
“Because Mark wasn’t using the name Mark Bennett.”
The hallway suddenly felt too narrow.
I gripped the door.
“What are you talking about?”
Rachel whispered, “His name was Marcus Bell.”
I stared at her.
May you like
She continued.
“And six months before you met him, he owed Dad thirty-eight thousand dollars.”
