Chapter 6
We drove to Thomas Greene’s office together.
Me.
Noah.
Rachel.
Nobody spoke.
Rachel sat in the back beside Noah, staring out the window.
Halfway there, she whispered, “I didn’t steal Dad’s money.”
I kept my eyes on the road.
“You had six years to say that.”
“I didn’t know it went into my account.”
I looked at her in the mirror.
“That makes no sense.”
“I know.”
“Then explain it.”
“I can’t.”
Noah spoke quietly.
“Maybe stop saying you can’t.”
Rachel looked at him.
He didn’t look back.
When we reached the law office, Mark was in the parking lot.
He looked like he hadn’t slept.
His shirt was wrinkled.
His hair was a mess.
For the first time in years, I noticed how old he looked.
He started toward us.
Noah immediately stepped closer to me.
Mark stopped.
That hurt him.
I saw it.
Good.
Thomas met us at the door.
He took one look at all of us and said, “Conference room.”
Inside, Mark placed a thick envelope on the table.
Rachel stared at it.
“Where did you get that?”
“My safe.”
“You kept them?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because I knew someday you’d turn this on me.”
Rachel laughed bitterly.
“You’re unbelievable.”
Thomas raised a hand.
“Enough.”
He opened the envelope.
Bank statements.
Copies of checks.
Email printouts.
An old USB drive.
Thomas read silently.
I watched his face change.
“What?” I asked.
He looked at Rachel.
“This account number.”
She leaned over.
Her face went blank.
“That was my savings account.”
“So the money was yours?” I asked.
“No.”
“You just said it was your account.”
“It was an account Dad helped me open when I was nineteen.”
Mark folded his arms.
“Forty thousand dollars appeared in it.”
Rachel snapped, “I didn’t put it there!”
Thomas examined another page.
“The transfer happened electronically.”
“From Dad’s account?” I asked.
He nodded.
“Three days after his death.”
I stared at Rachel.
She shook her head.
“I swear.”
Mark laughed once.
“Here we go.”
She turned on him.
“You know exactly what happened.”
“I know what the records say.”
“They say what you wanted them to say.”
Thomas inserted the USB into his laptop.
“This is the security footage?”
Mark nodded.
“How did you get it?”
“Daniel gave me a copy.”
I stared at him.
“My father gave you this?”
“Yes.”
“When?”
“Before he died.”
Rachel’s head snapped toward him.
“That’s impossible.”
“No, it isn’t.”
I hit the table with my palm.
“Stop.”
Everyone fell silent.
I looked at Mark.
“You told me my father barely knew you.”
“I lied.”
“You lied about your name.”
“Yes.”
“You lied about Eric.”
“Yes.”
“You lied about the money.”
“Yes.”
“Why should I believe one word you say now?”
His eyes reddened.
“You shouldn’t.”
That was not the answer I expected.
He sat down.
“You should watch.”
Thomas opened the video file.
The timestamp read six years earlier.
My father’s living room appeared.
I recognized everything.
His brown recliner.
The framed photograph of Mom.
The lamp Noah had accidentally broken when he was five, repaired with a line of glue Dad never bothered hiding.
At 7:58 p.m., Rachel walked through the front door.
She began crying immediately.
“I told you I was there.”
We watched.
There was no audio.
Dad came into view.
They argued.
Rachel gestured wildly.
Dad pointed toward his desk.
Rachel grabbed papers.
Then she threw them down.
At 8:26, another person appeared.
Me.
My blood went cold.
“That isn’t possible.”
Noah looked at me.
“Mom?”
On the screen, a woman with my height and my hair walked inside.
She wore a dark coat.
Her back stayed toward the camera.
I stared.
“That’s not me.”
Rachel whispered, “No.”
Everyone looked at her.
“That’s not Lisa.”
Mark leaned forward.
“Who is it?”
Rachel covered her mouth.
Thomas paused the video.
The woman turned slightly.
Enough to show part of her face.
I knew her.
Not well.
But I knew her.
“Mom?”
Noah’s voice trembled.
I could barely speak.
“That’s Aunt Claire.”
Our mother’s younger sister.
Claire Carter.
The aunt who had moved to Florida twelve years ago.
The aunt who came home for Dad’s funeral and left the morning after.
Rachel stared at the frozen image.
“I forgot.”
I looked at her.
“You forgot?”
“I blocked it out.”
“You forgot our aunt was there the night Dad died?”
“She told me never to tell you.”
I stood.
“I’m done with people telling me they kept secrets to protect me.”
Rachel started crying again.
“Claire came because Dad called her.”
“Why?”
“Because of Mom.”
Our mother had died when I was sixteen and Rachel was nineteen.
Cancer.
Or at least that was the truth I had always known.
“What does Mom have to do with Dad’s money?”
Rachel looked at Thomas.
He appeared equally confused.
“She left money,” Rachel said.
I laughed.
“No, she didn’t.”
“Yes.”
“She had medical debt.”
“That’s what Dad told us.”
My mouth went dry.
“Rachel.”
“Mom had a life insurance policy.”
“How much?”
“Two hundred thousand dollars.”
The room disappeared around me.
“What?”
“Dad never told you.”
“Apparently nobody told me anything.”
Rachel looked down.
“He used most of it to pay off the house and hospital bills.”
“That still doesn’t explain forty thousand.”
“No.”
She looked toward the frozen image of Claire.
“Mom left Claire as secondary beneficiary.”
Thomas leaned forward.
“That matters.”
Rachel nodded.
“After Mom died, Claire believed Dad had hidden part of the insurance money.”
“Did he?”
“I don’t know.”
Mark spoke.
“Daniel thought Claire was blackmailing him.”
I turned.
“How do you know?”
“Because that’s why he hired me.”
I stared.
“I thought you were his contractor.”
“I was.”
“That’s not what you just said.”
He rubbed his face.
“The renovation project was real. The missing money wasn’t.”
Rachel whispered, “What?”
Mark pulled another document from the envelope.
“Daniel hired me to move money.”
Thomas took it.
His eyes widened.
“Into shell companies?”
Mark nodded.
I felt sick.
“Why?”
“To hide it.”
“From who?”
“Claire.”
Nobody moved.
Mark continued.
“He believed she planned to sue him over your mother’s estate.”
“And the thirty-eight thousand?”
“It wasn’t stolen. Your father moved it himself.”
Rachel stared.
“Then why did he accuse me?”
Mark looked at her.
“Because after I transferred it, it disappeared from the shell account.”
“Into my account.”
“Yes.”
“Who transferred it?”
“I didn’t know.”
All of us slowly looked at the paused video.
Claire.
Thomas restarted it.
At 8:41, Dad went down.
Rachel screamed.
Even without audio, I could see it.
She knelt beside him.
Claire stood frozen.
Then Rachel ran toward the phone.
Claire stopped her.
They argued.
My entire body went cold.
“How long?”
Rachel started sobbing.
“Ten minutes.”
“No.”
“I’m sorry.”
“It wasn’t you.”
She looked at me.
“What?”
“You told me you panicked.”
“I did.”
“Claire stopped you.”
Rachel’s face crumpled.
“She said Dad was faking.”
My eyes burned.
“She said if we called an ambulance immediately, the police would find the financial papers and accuse us both of stealing from him.”
“Oh my God.”
“I was stupid.”
“You were scared.”
“No. I was stupid.”
At 8:49, Rachel grabbed the phone.
Claire tried to stop her again.
This time Rachel shoved her away.
Then she dialed.
At 8:52, Claire went to Dad’s desk.
She took documents.
Put them into a bag.
Then she left.
The ambulance arrived six minutes later.
I stared at the screen.
“I thought Dad called 911 himself.”
Rachel whispered, “I called.”
“You lied.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Claire threatened me.”
“With what?”
“The bank transfer.”
My head turned slowly.
“She transferred the money into your account.”
Rachel nodded.
“She told me if I talked, she would tell the police I stole it.”
Mark leaned back.
For the first time, his anger disappeared.
He looked stunned.
“You knew Claire moved it?”
Rachel shook her head.
“Not until after the funeral.”
“What happened to the money?” Thomas asked.
Rachel wiped her eyes.
“It disappeared again.”
“Where?”
“I don’t know.”
Thomas frowned.
“Forty thousand dollars doesn’t disappear.”
“It did.”
Mark suddenly stood.
“No.”
We all looked at him.
He grabbed one statement.
“What?”
“The account.”
His finger moved down the page.
“This transfer destination.”
Thomas leaned over.
“What about it?”
Mark’s face went pale.
“I know this routing number.”
I felt dread before he even spoke.
“Whose?”
He looked at me.
“My former business partner.”
I remembered him.
Victor Hale.
The man Mark had started his construction company with.
The man he claimed had moved away three years ago.
“The man you met outside our house?” Noah asked.
Mark looked at him.
“What?”
Noah pulled out his phone.
“The SUV.”
He opened the picture.
Mark stared.
Then his face changed completely.
“That’s Victor.”
Thomas whispered something under his breath.
I looked around the room.
“Tell me.”
Mark was no longer looking at us.
He was staring at the window.
“Victor didn’t come back because I owe him money.”
“What?”
“He came back because Rachel does.”
Rachel stood.
“I don’t even know Victor.”
Mark looked at her.
“Yes, you do.”
“No.”
“You knew him as Vince.”
Rachel stopped moving.
Her lips parted.
Mark nodded.
“The man you dated after Dad died.”
The room went silent.
Rachel looked like she had seen a ghost.
“No.”
Mark’s voice dropped.
“Yes.”
Rachel backed away from the table.
“No, no, no.”
I grabbed her arm.
“What?”
She looked at me.
Terror filled her face.
“Vince told me he worked in finance.”
Mark gave a bitter laugh.
“He did.”
Rachel’s eyes moved to the bank statement.
Then to Mark.
Then to me.
“He helped me close that account.”
Nobody spoke.
Rachel whispered, “He told me Dad’s money had been frozen by the bank.”
Mark shook his head.
“It wasn’t frozen.”
Rachel covered her face.
“He took it.”
“Yes.”
She started crying.
“And now he’s back.”
My phone vibrated.
Unknown number.
A text message.
I opened it.
One photograph.
Noah leaving school two days earlier.
Taken from across the street.
My heart stopped.
Under the photograph were six words.
TELL MARK I WANT MY MONEY.
I turned the screen toward Mark.
His face went gray.
Noah whispered, “That’s me.”
I grabbed my son.
Mark stood so quickly his chair fell.
Thomas reached for his phone.
“I’m calling the police.”
But Mark said, “Wait.”
I stared at him.
“Wait?”
“If Victor knows Noah’s school, this isn’t about forty thousand dollars anymore.”
“Then what is it about?”
Mark looked at me.
“The eight thousand I took.”
My grip tightened around Noah.
“What did you do with it?”
May you like
Mark swallowed.
“I paid Victor.”
