Chapter 2 - The Loan Rachel Never Signed)
Rachel did not call Dean.
That was the first decision she made.
The second was to lock every door.
The third was to pack a bag for Emma.
She moved quickly because fear had given her clarity.
Two changes of clothes for Emma.
Her stuffed rabbit.
Toothbrushes.
Medication.
Birth certificates.
Her laptop.
The folder containing the deed to the house.
Rachel kept the folder in a small cabinet inside the bedroom closet.
At least, she thought she did.
When she opened the cabinet, the folder was gone.
She searched every shelf twice.
Nothing.
Emma sat on the bed hugging her rabbit.
"Are we going somewhere?"
"Just for tonight."
"Is Daddy coming?"
Rachel hesitated.
"No."
Emma looked relieved.
That frightened Rachel more than if she had cried.
At four seventeen that afternoon, Rachel drove away from the house her mother had left her eleven years earlier.
She did not go to her sister's apartment.
Dean knew that address.
Instead, she drove to a small house outside town belonging to her aunt Susan, who had been traveling in Arizona for the summer and had given Rachel a spare key for emergencies.
Rachel had never expected the emergency to be her marriage.
Emma slept in the back seat.
Rachel spent the drive replaying the afternoon.
The laughter.
The bone.
Dean's smile.
Caleb's business card.
The default notice.
By the time she reached Susan's house, Rachel was certain of one thing.
Dean had wanted her to see that document.
Maybe not at that moment.
Maybe not in that way.
But he had been waiting to tell her about it.
Which meant he believed the loan gave him power.
Rachel put Emma to bed in the guest room and sat beside her until the child fell asleep.
Only then did she call Caleb.
He answered on the second ring.
"Rachel?"
"You knew I would call."
Silence.
"Where is Dean?"
"I don't know."
"Don't lie to me."
"I'm not."
Rachel stood and walked into the kitchen.
"Why did you give me your card?"
Caleb exhaled.
"Because this has gone too far."
"What has gone too far?"
Another silence.
Rachel gripped the phone harder.
"Caleb, there is a loan against my house."
"I know."
Her stomach dropped.
"Did Dean take it out?"
"You need to look at the signatures."
"I didn't sign anything."
"I know."
"Then who did?"
Caleb's voice lowered.
"That is not something I should tell you over the phone."
Rachel laughed once, without humor.
"You watched my husband throw food at my child. You watched grown men laugh while she cried. Don't tell me what you should or shouldn't do."
"I wasn't laughing."
"You were sitting there."
"I know."
That stopped her.
Caleb sounded ashamed.
Rachel glanced toward the hallway.
"Tell me what Dean is doing."
"He owes money."
"To whom?"
"Several people."
"How much?"
"I don't know the total."
"You were at my house discussing it."
"Not today."
"Then why were you there?"
Caleb hesitated.
"Dean told everybody it was just a barbecue."
Rachel closed her eyes.
The lie sounded ridiculous.
But she remembered the men.
Troy had barely eaten.
One man had spent half the afternoon checking his phone.
Caleb had looked uncomfortable even before Rachel entered the room.
"What is R.W.?"
Caleb did not answer.
"Caleb."
"Where did you see that?"
"On the default notice."
A chair scraped on Caleb's end.
"Rachel, listen to me. Do not go home tonight."
"I'm not home."
"Good."
"Who is R.W.?"
"Someone Dean should never have dealt with."
"What does that mean?"
"His name is Richard Weller."
Rachel searched her memory.
The name was unfamiliar.
"Who is he?"
"A property investor."
"Then why is he on a loan against my house?"
"Because Dean promised him something."
Rachel's voice became very quiet.
"What?"
"The house."
For several seconds Rachel heard nothing except the refrigerator humming.
"My house is not Dean's to promise."
"I know."
"My mother left it to me before I even married him."
"I know."
"Then how can there be a loan?"
"There shouldn't be."
Rachel leaned against the counter.
"Did Dean forge my signature?"
Caleb did not answer.
That was answer enough.
Rachel felt a strange sensation pass through her body.
Not shock.
Not exactly.
It was the feeling of thousands of small memories rearranging themselves.
Dean asking where she kept old tax records.
Dean offering to handle insurance paperwork.
Dean insisting they combine certain accounts.
Dean complaining that her mother had never trusted him.
Dean asking Rachel to sign documents while she was distracted with a newborn.
"How long?"
"I don't know."
"How long has he been planning this?"
"I honestly don't know."
Rachel stared through the dark kitchen window.
"Why are you helping me now?"
Caleb's voice changed.
"My father used to do things like that."
Rachel said nothing.
"Not the property stuff. The other part."
"The cruelty."
"Yeah."
"And you sat there."
"I froze."
"Emma is three."
"I know."
"You could have stopped him."
"I know."
The silence stretched.
Then Caleb said something unexpected.
"I kept something."
Rachel straightened.
"What?"
"A recording."
"Of today?"
"No."
"Then what?"
"Dean and Weller. About three weeks ago."
Rachel's heart began beating faster.
"What did they say?"
"You need to hear it yourself."
"Send it."
"I can't."
"Why?"
"Because Dean knows I recorded meetings sometimes. If it comes from my phone and somebody traces it, I'm finished."
"Finished how?"
Caleb did not answer.
Rachel whispered, "What have you people gotten into?"
Caleb spoke quickly.
"There's a storage unit on Porter Avenue. Number 214. I can leave a copy there tomorrow morning."
"Why a storage unit?"
"Because Dean doesn't know I still rent it."
"What's on the recording?"
Another pause.
Then Caleb said, "He talks about the house."
"Anything else?"
"Emma."
Rachel stopped breathing.
"What about Emma?"
Caleb's voice became barely audible.
"He says once he has the house, he can use custody to keep you from fighting him."
Rachel gripped the edge of the counter.
"Custody?"
"He thinks if he can make you look unstable, you'll agree to anything."
Rachel remembered the overturned dining table.
Her slap.
The broken plates.
The shocked faces.
A cold realization spread through her.
Dean had humiliated Emma.
Rachel had reacted exactly as any mother might.
But there had been witnesses.
Six of them.
And at least five were Dean's friends.
"Caleb."
"Yes?"
"Was today planned?"
"I don't know."
"Think."
"I swear, I don't know."
"Did Dean know I was coming home early?"
Caleb was silent.
Rachel's blood ran cold.
She had told Dean that morning she would be gone until six.
At one forty-five, her appointment had been canceled.
She had sent him a text.
On my way home.
Dean had responded with only one word.
Okay.
Twenty minutes later, Rachel had walked into the dining room.
"Caleb, did Dean tell everyone I was coming?"
"No."
"Did he look surprised when I walked in?"
Caleb took too long to answer.
"No."
Rachel closed her eyes.
The slap.
The overturned table.
Dean saying, Be careful.
The witnesses.
The default notice.
It was possible the entire afternoon had been designed to provoke her.
But Dean had made one mistake.
He had underestimated what Rachel would do after she became afraid.
She would not collapse.
She would investigate.
"Tomorrow," she said. "Storage unit 214."
"Ten in the morning."
"I'll be there."
Rachel ended the call.
When she turned toward the hallway, Emma was standing there.
Barefoot.
Holding her rabbit.
"Mommy?"
Rachel hurried to her.
"What's wrong?"
"I had a bad dream."
Rachel carried her back toward the bedroom.
Emma rested her head against her mother's shoulder.
Halfway down the hall, the little girl whispered, "Daddy said you were going away."
Rachel stopped.
"When did he say that?"
"Today."
"What exactly did Daddy say?"
Emma rubbed her eyes.
"He said soon you wouldn't live in Grandma's house anymore."
Rachel's pulse quickened.
"What else?"
Emma thought for a moment.
"He said I could stay with him if I was good."
Rachel held her daughter tighter.
"Did he say where Mommy would go?"
Emma nodded sleepily.
"Far away."
Rachel stood motionless in the dark hallway.
May you like
Dean had not merely discussed taking the house.
He had already begun preparing Emma for Rachel's disappearance from it.
