Chapter 4 - TWO DAYS BEFORE THE FIRE)
The warrant search of the Carter house began the next morning.
Mark was not permitted inside while investigators worked.
He stood across the street beside Detective Reyes and watched strangers move through his home wearing gloves.
The sunny suburban house looked exactly as it always had.
Blue shutters.
White siding.
A basketball hoop above the garage.
Liam’s bicycle lying beside the hedge.
Mark hated that something so familiar could suddenly feel like a crime scene.
Liam remained with Rachel.
Mark had wanted him far away.
At 10:15, an evidence technician stepped outside carrying Karen’s desktop computer.
At 10:40, another officer carried two boxes from the office.
At 11:05, Detective Reyes received a call and walked several yards away.
When she returned, her expression told Mark something had changed.
“What?”
“We found the source of the photographs.”
“The ones from the storage unit?”
She nodded.
“A memory card.”
“Where?”
“In your home office.”
Mark almost smiled from disbelief.
“She kept it in the house?”
“Hidden behind the false back panel of a filing drawer.”
Reyes opened her tablet.
“There were more photos than the printed copies.”
“How many?”
“Hundreds.”
Mark felt sick.
“Of Liam?”
“Some. Others are of the patio heater, invoices, your identification, your signature on unrelated documents.”
“She practiced my signature.”
“That’s what it looks like.”
Reyes scrolled.
“Do you recognize this?”
She showed him a photograph of a yellow envelope.
Mark frowned.
“No.”
The detective enlarged the image.
The envelope was addressed to Karen.
The return address belonged to a financial services company.
“What is it?”
“We found the original in the office.”
She handed Mark a copy.
It was a notice regarding delinquent debt.
Forty-eight thousand dollars.
Mark stared at it.
“I didn’t know she owed this.”
“There’s more.”
Credit cards.
A personal loan.
A line of credit opened eight months earlier.
Total liabilities exceeding ninety thousand dollars.
Some accounts were in Karen’s name.
One was jointly listed with Mark.
He had never opened it.
“She forged that too.”
“Probably.”
“Why didn’t the bank call me?”
“The account used a different phone number and email address.”
The prepaid phone.
Mark suddenly saw the shape of it.
Debt.
Fraud.
Insurance.
But something still did not make sense.
“Even if she wanted insurance money, the claim belongs to Liam, doesn’t it?”
Cole, the insurance investigator, had arrived during the search.
He answered.
“Any settlement involving a minor would normally be supervised or structured. Karen would not simply receive a check for one point eight million dollars.”
“Then why do this?”
Cole looked at Reyes.
“There are ways an unscrupulous person might believe they could access portions of the funds through claimed expenses, reimbursement arrangements, legal fees, medical management, or trusts.”
Mark stared at him.
“She thought she could control it.”
“Possibly.”
Reyes added, “Or the insurance claim may not be the only financial angle.”
Mark looked at her.
“What else?”
“We found an email draft.”
“To who?”
“It was never sent. It appears to have been written to someone named Scott.”
Mark knew only one Scott closely connected to Karen.
Her younger brother.
Scott Bell.
He worked for a private claims adjusting company in another state.
Mark had met him twice.
“What did it say?”
Reyes read from her notes.
“If Northland keeps pushing back, we need another complication. The photos after the next appointment should be enough.”
Mark felt the world tilt.
Another complication.
He thought of the soaked graft.
“Next appointment?”
“The draft is dated May 16.”
Two days before Karen secretly took Liam to the clinic.
Mark turned away.
He wanted to punch the fence.
Instead he gripped the wooden rail until his hands hurt.
Reyes let him stand there.
After a moment she continued.
“We have not established what ‘complication’ meant.”
Mark turned back.
“Yes, you have.”
“We need evidence.”
“She wet his dressing.”
“We have Liam’s statement and the medical findings.”
“She pulled it off.”
“We are investigating.”
“She was making it worse.”
Reyes did not disagree.
Another officer emerged.
He was carrying a clear evidence bag.
Inside was a small wrench.
Mark recognized it immediately.
“That was in my garage.”
“Do you know what it’s used for?”
“I use it on the propane tanks sometimes.”
“Where did you normally keep it?”
“Toolbox.”
“Was it missing after the accident?”
Mark thought back.
The patio had been chaos.
Ambulance.
Hospital.
Karen crying.
He had not checked a wrench.
“I don’t know.”
The technician had found it in Karen’s office.
Not the garage.
Reyes said, “We’re sending it for examination.”
Mark looked toward the house.
“What do you think she did?”
“I don’t speculate before evidence comes back.”
Mark almost snapped at her.
Then he understood why she was careful.
This was not a family argument anymore.
Every word mattered.
By midafternoon, police had still not located Karen.
Her SUV had been found near the storage facility, but Karen herself had disappeared.
Surveillance footage showed her leaving in a dark sedan driven by another person.
The license plate was obscured.
Mark knew who he suspected.
“Scott.”
Reyes nodded.
“We’re checking.”
At Rachel’s house that evening, Liam was quiet.
Mark sat beside him on the back steps.
Rachel had covered Liam’s dressing with a waterproof sleeve so he could sit near the garden without worrying about accidental splashes.
For several minutes neither spoke.
Finally Liam asked, “Is Karen coming back?”
“I don’t know.”
“Do I have to live with her?”
“No.”
The answer came instantly.
Liam looked at him.
“Ever?”
“No.”
Mark knew courts existed.
Investigations existed.
Nothing was as simple as a father making one promise.
But that promise he would keep.
Liam nodded.
Then asked, “Are you mad that I told?”
Mark stared at him.
“No.”
“Even about the heater?”
“Especially about the heater.”
Liam picked at the hem of his shirt.
“She told me nobody would believe me because I touched the heater after.”
“Why did you touch it?”
“She told me to.”
Mark swallowed.
“Before the fire?”
“Yes.”
“Liam, did Karen tell you to do anything to the propane tank?”
The boy thought.
“She said the knob was stuck.”
“What knob?”
“The silver one.”
Mark took out his phone.
He found a photograph of a propane cylinder valve.
“This?”
Liam nodded.
“She gave me the wrench.”
Mark’s pulse accelerated.
“What did she tell you?”
“To turn it.”
“Which way?”
“I don’t remember.”
“That’s okay.”
“I said it smelled bad.”
Mark closed his eyes.
“What did she do?”
“She got mad.”
“Did she touch the tank after you?”
Liam nodded.
“What did she do?”
“She turned something.”
The wrench.
The connection.
The close-up photographs two days before the accident.
Mark stood.
“I need to call Detective Reyes.”
Liam looked worried.
“Did I do something wrong?”
“No.”
Mark crouched immediately.
“No. You did exactly what you were supposed to do. You told the truth.”
As he dialed, Rachel opened the back door.
“Mark.”
He looked up.
She was holding his tablet.
“You need to see this.”
“What?”
“I was trying to find the number for Liam’s school counselor. Your photos sync to this.”
“So?”
“There’s a video.”
Mark walked inside.
Rachel pressed play.
The footage was only eleven seconds long.
It appeared to have been accidentally recorded from Mark’s phone six weeks earlier.
The camera faced down because the device had been resting inside his jacket pocket.
The screen showed mostly darkness.
But the audio was clear.
Karen’s voice.
“You’ll do exactly what I told you when he calls.”
Then Liam.
“What if Dad asks about the smell?”
Karen replied.
“You tell him you never smelled anything.”
There was a pause.
May you like
Then Karen spoke again.
“And if you make me look bad, you will wish that burn was the worst thing that happened today.”
