Chapter 8
Claire took my phone before I could answer.
“Do not respond.”
“I know who sent it.”
“You suspect.”
“Michael.”
“Maybe.”
She photographed the message and forwarded it to Detective Cole.
Within an hour, financial investigators were involved.
The lien against my house was real.
The loan behind it was not.
At least not on my end.
Michael Trent’s company claimed it had transferred $400,000 to an account jointly controlled by Rachel and me.
There was only one problem.
I had never seen the account.
Samuel traced it to a bank across town.
The account had been opened eleven months earlier.
The address was mine.
The email was almost mine.
daniel.carter.workmail.
My actual address had one extra letter.
The phone number belonged to a prepaid device.
The signature card showed my name.
And an electronic copy of my driver’s license.
I felt violated in a way I couldn't explain.
Rachel had created another version of me.
A fake husband who signed whatever she needed.
A fake father who surrendered Sophie’s money.
A fake borrower who owed almost half a million dollars.
“Where did the $400,000 go?” I asked.
The investigator, Agent Noah Pierce, looked through the records.
“Most of it left the account within seventy-two hours.”
“To where?”
“Three companies.”
“Owned by Michael?”
“One appears connected to him.”
“And the others?”
“We’re working on it.”
I pointed at the screen.
“So Rachel and Michael invented a loan, put a lien on my house, and transferred the money to themselves?”
“That is one possibility.”
“One possibility?”
Agent Pierce looked at me.
“If we want charges that survive court, we build the facts carefully.”
I was beginning to hate that sentence in every form.
Carefully.
Slowly.
Eventually.
Meanwhile Sophie woke up afraid every night.
That evening, Laura made macaroni and cheese.
Sophie ate two bites.
Then she pushed the bowl away.
“What’s wrong?” I asked.
“Nothing.”
“You usually love this.”
Her eyes filled with tears.
“I ate too much at lunch.”
Laura and I exchanged a look.
I remembered the forensic interview.
Food restriction.
I crouched beside Sophie.
“You can eat whenever you're hungry.”
She shook her head.
“Rachel said girls get ugly when they eat too much.”
Laura froze.
I closed my eyes.
“Rachel was wrong.”
“She said you like skinny girls.”
My throat tightened.
“Sophie, I love you because you’re you.”
She looked at me suspiciously.
“Even if I get big?”
“Even if you grow taller than me.”
That made her smile a little.
Laura carried the bowl back and warmed it.
Sophie ate slowly.
Halfway through, someone knocked.
She dropped the spoon.
“No.”
I stood immediately.
“It’s okay.”
“No, Daddy.”
Laura checked the doorbell camera.
Her face changed.
“Daniel.”
“What?”
“It’s Mark.”
My older brother.
I hadn’t spoken to Mark in almost a year.
Not because we hated each other.
Because Rachel hated him.
She said he was disrespectful.
Jealous.
Too involved.
Eventually, I stopped inviting him over.
Now he stood outside carrying a cardboard box.
I opened the door.
Mark looked older than I remembered.
“Hey.”
“What are you doing here?”
He glanced past me.
“Is Sophie okay?”
“She will be.”
His jaw tightened.
“I should have come sooner.”
Something in his voice bothered me.
“What does that mean?”
Mark looked at Sophie.
“Can we talk somewhere else?”
We went onto the porch.
I closed the door behind us.
Mark set the box on the railing.
“Rachel came to see me three months ago.”
My entire body stiffened.
“Why?”
“She wanted money.”
“For what?”
“She said you were in trouble.”
“What kind of trouble?”
“Gambling.”
I stared.
“I don’t gamble.”
“I know.”
“Did you give her money?”
“No.”
“What happened?”
“She got angry.”
Mark opened the box.
Inside were printed emails.
“She sent these afterward.”
I picked one up.
It appeared to come from me.
MARK, STAY OUT OF MY MARRIAGE.
Another.
RACHEL HANDLES OUR FINANCES. DO WHAT SHE SAYS.
Another.
IF YOU CONTACT SOPHIE WITHOUT MY PERMISSION, WE’LL HAVE A PROBLEM.
“I never wrote these.”
“I figured that out.”
“When?”
“Too late.”
I looked at him.
“What aren’t you telling me?”
Mark rubbed his face.
“The last time I saw Sophie, she had a bruise on her arm.”
My chest tightened.
“When?”
“Four months ago.”
“You saw it?”
“Yes.”
“And you didn’t tell me?”
“I asked Rachel. She said Sophie fell off a swing.”
“You believed her?”
“No.”
“Then why didn’t you call me?”
“I tried!”
Mark suddenly shouted.
“Rachel answered your phone.”
I stopped.
“What?”
“She said you didn’t want me interfering anymore.”
I felt dizzy.
Mark’s eyes filled with anger.
“At Christmas, Sophie whispered something to me.”
“What?”
“She said Rachel had a secret room.”
My stomach dropped.
“You knew?”
“I didn’t understand.”
“What did you do?”
“I came back the next day.”
“And?”
“Rachel wouldn’t let me inside.”
Mark reached into the box.
He pulled out a small memory card.
“I turned on my truck camera before I walked to the door.”
My pulse jumped.
“What’s on that?”
“Rachel threatening me.”
“That helps.”
Mark shook his head.
“That’s not the important part.”
He looked through the window at Sophie.
“While Rachel was yelling at me, someone came out of your garage.”
“Who?”
“Michael Trent.”
May you like
I stopped breathing.
“And he was carrying a file box with Emily’s name written on the side.”
