Chapter 3 - The Account Clara Was Never Supposed to See
Daniel stared at his wife.
For several seconds, he wondered whether exhaustion had made him misunderstand.
"My mother's bank statements?"
Clara nodded.
"Why do you have my mother's bank statements?"
"Because they were mailed here."
"When?"
"Three months ago."
"Why?"
"I don't know."
Clara pushed herself slightly higher against the hospital pillow.
"I almost threw the envelope into the recycling because I assumed it was junk mail. Then I noticed the account name."
Daniel waited.
"It said Carter Family Holdings."
He frowned.
"I've never heard of that."
"Neither had I."
"What does it have to do with Mom?"
"Her name was listed as trustee."
Daniel stared.
"Trustee of what?"
"That's what I tried to figure out."
Clara looked exhausted again.
Dr. Morgan glanced at Daniel.
"She needs rest."
"I know."
Clara tightened her fingers around his hand.
"No. He needs to hear this."
Daniel sat.
Clara continued.
"The account had more than eight hundred thousand dollars."
Daniel almost laughed.
Not because it was funny.
Because it made no sense.
"My mother doesn't have eight hundred thousand dollars."
"She does."
"No."
"Daniel, I saw the statements."
"My father left her the house and his retirement account. That's it."
Clara shook her head.
"The deposits started before your father died."
Daniel's mind raced.
"Where did the money come from?"
"Some of it was transfers from an account with your father's initials. Some came from something called Carter Industrial Benefit Trust."
Daniel stopped.
He knew that name.
His grandfather's company had once operated several manufacturing plants in Ohio and Pennsylvania. The business had been sold before Daniel was born.
"What else?"
"There were withdrawals."
"How much?"
"Large ones."
"To where?"
"Some went to your mother. Some went to Marjorie."
Daniel frowned.
"Aunt Marjorie?"
Clara nodded.
"And some..."
She looked toward Noah.
"Some went to an account in your name."
Daniel felt the room tilt.
"I don't have another account."
"I know."
"What are you saying?"
"I think somebody opened one."
His phone buzzed again.
Another message from Evelyn.
Your wife has been stealing from you.
Daniel almost threw the phone.
Clara watched his face.
"What did she say?"
"That you've been stealing."
Clara gave a tired, humorless laugh.
"Of course."
Daniel looked at her.
"You were investigating her?"
"I didn't know what I was investigating."
"Why didn't you tell me?"
Clara's expression hurt more than anger would have.
"Would you have believed me?"
Daniel had no answer.
She turned away.
"I called the bank. They wouldn't give me information because my name wasn't on the account. So I printed the statements and kept them."
"And the flash drive?"
Clara looked back at him.
Daniel froze.
She hadn't mentioned a flash drive.
"How do you know about that?"
"My mother said she found the bank statements."
"I didn't tell her about the drive."
Daniel's stomach tightened.
"What is on it?"
Clara hesitated.
"Recordings."
The word hung in the room.
"Recordings of Mom?"
"Some."
"What kind?"
"Things she said when you weren't home."
Daniel closed his eyes.
He remembered the afternoon.
I kept the recording.
"Today too?"
Clara nodded.
Daniel breathed out slowly.
"Why were you recording her?"
"Because I needed to know I wasn't imagining it."
Her eyes filled.
"And because every time I told you what she said, you asked whether maybe I'd misunderstood."
Daniel looked down.
He remembered every version of that sentence.
Maybe Mom was joking.
Maybe she didn't mean it that way.
Maybe she was stressed.
Maybe you were both emotional.
Maybe.
Maybe.
Maybe.
Every maybe had been another brick in a wall Clara had been trapped behind.
"I failed you," he said.
Clara's eyes closed.
"Daniel..."
"No."
He shook his head.
"I did."
Before she could answer, his phone rang again.
This time it wasn't Evelyn.
It was his neighbor, Marcus Hill.
Daniel answered.
"Marcus?"
"Daniel, are you at the hospital?"
"Yes."
"Is Clara okay?"
"She's stable. Why?"
A pause.
"Your mother is outside your house."
Daniel frowned.
"She should be packing."
"She is."
"Good."
Marcus didn't answer immediately.
"What?"
"Daniel, she isn't packing her clothes."
"What is she doing?"
"She's putting boxes from your office into her car."
Daniel stood so quickly the chair struck the wall.
"What boxes?"
"Files. I think."
Daniel's blood went cold.
Marcus continued.
"And there's another car here."
"Whose?"
"I don't know. Black Mercedes."
"Who's driving it?"
"Older woman."
Daniel already knew.
"Aunt Marjorie."
"Maybe."
"What are they doing?"
Marcus looked through his window.
Then his voice changed.
"Daniel..."
May you like
"What?"
"They just carried your fireproof document safe out of the house."
