Chapter 6
I thought nothing could shock me anymore.
I was wrong.
Detective Harris asked us to come to the station.
Victor was already there.
So was Harold Benson.
A folder sat on the table.
Harris opened it.
“Your father contacted an independent medical examiner twelve days before his death.”
“Why didn’t anyone tell me?”
“The appointment never happened.”
“Because Teresa canceled it?”
“After he died.”
“That doesn’t make sense.”
“It does if she wanted to prevent an examination.”
Amy squeezed my hand.
Harris continued.
“We also found financial records.”
He pushed a document toward me.
Teresa had transferred $210,000 from my father’s investment account three days before his death.
Another $75,000 the morning after.
Another $90,000 two weeks later.
I stared at the numbers.
“She stole almost everything.”
“Not everything.”
Harris turned the page.
“There was another account.”
The balance made me blink.
$1.8 million.
Beneficiary: Ryan Carter.
I looked at Benson.
“I never knew about this.”
“Your father didn’t want Teresa to know.”
“Where is it?”
Benson’s expression darkened.
“Empty.”
My chest tightened.
“Who withdrew it?”
Harris slid another document across the table.
The signature looked like mine.
But it wasn’t.
Amy noticed immediately.
“That’s forged.”
“Yes,” Harris said.
“Who did it?”
“We’re tracing it.”
Victor whispered, “Teresa.”
Harris looked at him.
“You know something?”
Victor rubbed both hands over his face.
“There was a man.”
“What man?”
“Teresa started seeing him before Thomas died.”
I stared at my uncle.
“You’re telling me Mom was having an affair?”
“I think so.”
“With who?”
“I never knew his real name.”
“Did Dad know?”
“Yes.”
That explained more than I wanted it to.
Victor continued.
“Thomas found hotel receipts.”
Amy suddenly looked at me.
“The hotels.”
“What?”
“The allowance statements.”
I remembered.
Hotel rooms.
Expensive dinners.
Jewelry.
For two years after Dad’s death, Teresa had continued paying for hotels using the money I sent her.
My mother had lied about needing help.
Maybe she had been supporting someone.
I pulled out my phone.
I still had every statement.
“Detective.”
Harris examined them.
“These charges repeat.”
“Same hotel?”
“Same hotel group.”
He called another investigator.
Within an hour, they had a name.
Marcus Vale.
Fifty-two.
Former financial consultant.
Two fraud convictions.
And one connection that made Harris stop speaking.
“What?” I asked.
He turned his laptop toward me.
Marcus had worked for my father.
Years earlier.
Dad fired him for theft.
Amy whispered, “Teresa was involved with the man Thomas fired?”
“Looks that way,” Harris said.
I stared at Marcus’s photograph.
Something about him seemed familiar.
Then I remembered.
“The party.”
“What?”
“He was there.”
Amy looked confused.
“At Caleb’s birthday?”
“Yes.”
“He was standing near the patio.”
I had assumed he was one of Victor’s friends.
Victor went pale.
“He was there?”
I opened family photographs from the party.
There.
Behind Teresa.
Marcus.
Watching Amy wash dishes.
Watching me confront my mother.
Watching everything.
Harris immediately stood.
“We need his location.”
My phone rang.
Unknown number.
I answered.
“Hello?”
A man laughed.
“You should’ve left your mother alone.”
My blood turned cold.
“Marcus?”
Amy stared at me.
The man continued.
“Teresa warned you.”
“Where are you?”
“Closer than you think.”
The line disconnected.
Harris started issuing orders.
Then Amy’s phone vibrated.
A photograph arrived from an unknown number.
It showed our house.
Taken from inside.
Amy gasped.
The timestamp was two minutes earlier.
A second photograph arrived.
Caleb’s nursery.
His empty crib.
Then a message.
Your father hid something here.
I’m going to find it.
Harris grabbed his jacket.
Police rushed from the room.
I followed.
Amy grabbed my hand.
“No.”
“I’m going home.”
“Ryan, he could be armed.”
“That’s my family’s house.”
“And you’re my family.”
I looked at her.
She was terrified.
But she was right.
We waited while officers surrounded the property.
Ten minutes later, Harris called.
“We’re inside.”
“And?”
“No Marcus.”
“What did he take?”
Harris didn’t answer immediately.
“Ryan…”
“What?”
“We found your father’s old safe open.”
My stomach dropped.
“What was inside?”
“Nothing.”
Then Harris lowered his voice.
“But there’s writing on the wall behind it.”
“What does it say?”
May you like
He read the words slowly.
ASK TERESA ABOUT THE BABY.
