Chapter 5 - the man Margaret said she did not know)
Richard Vale was not difficult to find.
Dad searched his name while Detective Morales was still sitting at the table.
Financial consultant.
Business restructuring advisor.
Former loan broker.
Three civil lawsuits.
One bankruptcy.
Morales cautioned us not to assume every online result concerned the same man.
Then she showed us his driver's license photograph.
It did.
"What is his connection to Ethan?" I asked.
"We don't know yet."
Dad glanced at Morales.
"But you know something."
She paused.
"Vale's name appeared in records connected to the account that received fifteen thousand dollars."
"Keller Strategic Design?"
"No. The other business."
She wrote the name on a legal pad.
Chesapeake Development Partners.
Dad searched it.
The company had no real website.
Just a registered office in Glen Burnie.
Morales said, "Richard Vale is listed as the resident agent."
I looked at her.
"Why would Ethan send money to him?"
"That is one of the questions we intend to ask."
I thought about Margaret.
Something tugged at my memory.
A dinner.
Weeks earlier.
Her phone had been lying on the kitchen counter while she carried dishes to the table.
The screen lit up.
RICHARD.
I had assumed it was someone from her church committee.
I told Morales.
She immediately noted it.
"Did you ever hear her mention a Richard?"
"No."
Then I remembered something else.
"She went to dinner with someone named Rick."
"When?"
"Maybe a month ago. She said he was an old friend."
Dad asked, "Was Ethan there?"
"I don't know."
By noon, I wanted to return to Margaret's house and collect everything.
Morales advised against going alone.
Officer Reed arranged a civil standby for the following morning.
That night Ethan sent forty seven messages.
I read all of them.
The tone changed every ten minutes.
Please talk to me.
I made mistakes.
Mom handled the paperwork.
You know I would never intentionally hurt you.
Your dad has always hated me.
You are destroying our family over money.
Please bring Noah home.
You can't keep my son from me.
Then at 11:03 p.m.
Do you really want Noah growing up knowing his mother sent his father to prison?
I stared at the screen.
There it was.
Not remorse.
Leverage.
I typed a response.
I have not sent anyone anywhere. I answered questions about documents bearing my forged signature.
I almost sent it.
Then I remembered Morales telling me not to engage.
I deleted the reply.
The next morning, Dad drove me to Margaret's house.
Officer Reed met us there.
Ethan was gone.
Margaret opened the door.
She looked immaculate.
Hair styled.
Pearl earrings.
Cream sweater.
If she had been worried, she refused to show it.
"You have thirty minutes."
Officer Reed corrected her.
"Mrs. Whitaker can collect her personal belongings."
"This is my house."
"And nobody is disputing that."
Margaret looked at me.
"You've embarrassed Ethan enough."
I shifted on my crutches.
"Where are my keys?"
She removed them from a drawer and set them on the table.
No apology.
I took them.
Then Dad and I went downstairs.
At first everything seemed normal.
Noah's clothes.
My laptop.
My illustration tablet.
Toiletries.
Documents.
Then I opened my desk.
My passport was there.
My Social Security card was not.
I searched the folder twice.
"Dad."
He came over.
"What?"
"My Social Security card is missing."
Officer Reed documented it.
Margaret called from upstairs.
"Maybe you lost it."
I ignored her.
Then I noticed the lockbox.
It was underneath the bed.
The lock was broken.
My stomach dropped.
Inside, papers had been rearranged.
A small envelope containing emergency cash was gone.
Seven hundred dollars.
A USB drive was missing too.
That drive held old tax returns and scanned copies of personal records.
Dad looked at me.
"What was on it?"
"Everything."
Margaret appeared at the bedroom door.
Officer Reed stepped between us.
She said, "I don't know what you're accusing me of."
I stared at her.
"I didn't say your name."
She realized the mistake immediately.
Dad did too.
He quietly asked, "How did you know she was accusing you?"
Margaret's cheeks reddened.
"This entire spectacle is about blaming me."
I turned away.
That was when I saw the baby monitor.
It sat on the dresser.
The camera unit had been unplugged.
I remembered Margaret complaining it used too much electricity.
I had not used it in weeks because Noah slept in our room.
But the monitor was cloud connected.
When Noah was younger, I had subscribed to automatic motion recordings because I was anxious about his sleep.
I had forgotten to cancel the subscription.
I picked up the camera.
Dad noticed my expression.
"What?"
"I think this records to the cloud."
Margaret's face changed.
Only for a second.
But I saw it.
So did Officer Reed.
I opened the app on my phone.
The password had been changed.
I requested a reset.
The email arrived immediately.
I logged in.
Hundreds of short clips appeared.
Most showed an empty bedroom.
Some showed me feeding Noah.
Others showed Ethan changing clothes or walking past.
Then I saw one recorded nineteen days earlier at 2:13 in the afternoon.
I had been at a pediatric appointment.
Noah had been with me.
The room should have been empty.
The thumbnail showed Ethan.
And Margaret.
Dad whispered, "Play it."
The recording lasted only forty seconds.
Ethan stood beside my desk.
Margaret held my lockbox.
Her voice came clearly through the tiny camera microphone.
"Richard says we need the original card, not just the copy."
Ethan answered.
"Then find it."
Margaret said, "And if Hannah notices?"
Ethan looked directly toward the desk.
"She notices everything lately."
May you like
Then Margaret said the sentence that made Officer Reed reach for his radio.
"That's why the custody paperwork has to be ready before she realizes what we're doing."
