Chapter 8
The police arrived before I did.
Megan stood on her front porch wearing slippers and a sweatshirt.
She looked furious.
Not frightened.
Furious.
“Laptop is still there.”
She pointed through the door.
“Jewelry is still there. Cash in the kitchen drawer is still there.”
“What about the drive?”
“Gone.”
The small backup drive had been inside a desk drawer.
The drawer was open.
Nothing else had been disturbed.
I looked at the officer.
“So someone came specifically for it.”
“We can’t conclude that yet.”
“What else would they want from one desk drawer?”
The officer stayed professional.
“We’ll document the scene.”
There were no obvious signs of forced entry.
That bothered me.
Megan changed her locks six months earlier.
Only three people had keys.
Megan.
Me.
And Linda.
My stomach dropped.
“No.”
Megan looked at me.
“What?”
“Linda had a key.”
Her face changed.
“You think she came here?”
“I don’t know.”
I called her.
No answer.
Again.
Voicemail.
Megan whispered, “She gave Ethan a key?”
“We don’t know that.”
But I already suspected it.
Linda called back twenty minutes later.
She sounded confused.
“What happened?”
“Did Ethan ever have access to Megan’s house key?”
Silence.
My stomach tightened.
“Linda.”
“He borrowed mine once.”
“When?”
“Last year.”
“Did he copy it?”
“I don’t know.”
“Why did he borrow it?”
“He said he needed to drop off a birthday gift for Noah.”
Megan cursed under her breath.
I closed my eyes.
“Did you tell him about the backup drive?”
“No.”
“Did you tell him Megan saved recordings?”
Another pause.
“Linda.”
“I told him she was helping you organize evidence.”
Megan threw up her hands.
“Unbelievable.”
Linda started crying.
“I didn’t know he would do anything.”
“Stop telling him things.”
“I know.”
“No. You clearly don’t.”
“I’m sorry.”
I hung up.
The good news was the drive wasn’t our only copy.
Rebecca had one.
I had one stored securely online.
The original files were still on Noah’s tablet, which was now with me at all times.
The burglary accomplished nothing.
Except revealing desperation.
Then the first supervised visit happened.
Noah didn’t want to go.
“I don’t want Dad asking what I told Dr. Carter.”
“He isn’t allowed to question you about the case.”
“He’ll do it without asking.”
I knew exactly what he meant.
Ethan rarely needed direct questions.
He could make a statement and wait for someone to correct him.
He could sigh.
Look wounded.
Say, “I guess your mom told you I’m a monster.”
And suddenly the other person was explaining.
Defending.
Reassuring.
Dr. Carter helped prepare Noah.
“You do not have to discuss adult conflict.”
She gave him simple sentences.
“I don’t want to talk about that.”
“Ask my counselor.”
“I’m here to spend time with you.”
The visit took place at a supervised family center.
I sat in another room.
For ninety minutes, I watched the clock.
When Noah came out, he looked pale.
I stood immediately.
“What happened?”
The supervisor stepped closer.
“Nothing unsafe occurred.”
That was not comforting.
Noah hugged me.
In the car, he stayed silent.
I waited.
Finally he said, “Dad cried.”
My chest tightened.
“That must have been hard.”
“He said he misses me.”
“I’m sure he does.”
Noah looked at me sharply.
“You believe him?”
“Yes.”
That surprised him.
“A person can miss you and still make harmful choices.”
He stared out the window.
“He said everyone turned against him.”
“What did you say?”
“Nothing.”
“Good.”
“He said Grandma betrayed him.”
I kept my face neutral.
“What else?”
“He asked if you were still talking to Claire.”
There it was.
“Did you answer?”
“No.”
He looked proud.
“I said, ‘I don’t want to talk about that.’”
I smiled.
“Good job.”
Then his expression fell.
“Dad said I sound like you now.”
My heart hurt.
“What did he mean?”
“I don’t know.”
“Yes, you do.”
I took a breath.
“He was probably upset that you set a boundary.”
“Is that bad?”
“No.”
“He made it sound bad.”
“That does not make it bad.”
Noah became quiet.
Then whispered, “I still love him.”
“I know.”
“You’re not mad?”
“No.”
“Even though he hit you?”
My throat tightened.
“Even then.”
“How?”
“Because your love for Dad belongs to you. It is not something I get to control.”
He cried quietly the rest of the drive.
The next morning, Rebecca called.
“Claire received a message.”
My stomach tightened.
“From Ethan?”
“Yes.”
“What does it say?”
“She forwarded it to her attorney.”
Rebecca read it.
You created this mess. Fix your statement or I’ll make sure everyone knows where the missing money really went.
I sat down.
“Is he threatening her?”
“That is how her attorney views it.”
“Does he mean she took the money?”
“Possibly.”
“Did she?”
“We don’t know.”
I hated that sentence.
We don’t know.
It had become the soundtrack of my life.
Then David called later that afternoon.
They had traced more transfers.
Some went to Claire’s account.
Some to the fake North Coast account.
And nearly three hundred thousand dollars went to an account held by a trust.
“What trust?”
David hesitated.
“The Parker Family Trust.”
I stared at him.
“I’ve never heard of that.”
“Neither had Rebecca.”
“Who controls it?”
“We’re still confirming.”
By evening, we had the answer.
Linda.
I drove to her house with Rebecca’s warning echoing in my head.
Do not accuse without facts.
I knocked.
Linda opened the door.
Her expression changed when she saw me.
“Sarah.”
“What is the Parker Family Trust?”
Her face went pale.
There it was.
She knew.
“Come inside.”
“No.”
“Please.”
“Tell me.”
She looked toward the street.
Then stepped outside and closed the door.
“Tom created it.”
Ethan’s father.
“For what?”
“For Noah.”
I froze.
“What?”
“Tom adored Noah.”
My chest tightened.
“How much?”
“When Tom died, about two hundred fifty thousand.”
I stared at her.
“And now?”
“I don’t know.”
“What do you mean you don’t know?”
“Ethan helped manage it.”
My stomach dropped.
“Linda.”
“He said he was investing the money.”
“For Noah?”
“Yes.”
“Did you authorize withdrawals?”
“Some.”
“How many?”
Her eyes filled.
“I don’t remember.”
“Try.”
“Sarah—”
“Try.”
She started crying.
“He told me the trust could earn more through his company.”
“How much did you give him?”
“About one hundred fifty thousand.”
I could barely breathe.
“That money belonged to Noah.”
“It was still invested for him.”
“No, Linda. Ethan’s company is missing almost a million dollars.”
Her face collapsed.
“No.”
“Yes.”
“He said—”
“I don’t care what he said.”
I turned away, then stopped.
“What about the other transfers? David found nearly three hundred thousand moving through the trust.”
Linda stared at me.
“I didn’t know that.”
“Did Ethan have access?”
“Yes.”
“To move money without you?”
“I gave him authority.”
My stomach twisted.
He had used Noah’s trust too.
His own son’s money.
Linda leaned against the door.
“Oh God.”
Then something changed in her face.
“What?”
She stared at me.
“Tom.”
“What about him?”
“Before he died.”
Her breathing became uneven.
“He made me promise something.”
“What?”
“That Ethan would never control the trust alone.”
I felt cold.
“Why?”
“Tom found something.”
“What?”
“A check.”
“How much?”
“Twenty thousand dollars.”
“To Ethan?”
“No.”
She looked at me.
“It was from Ethan’s old company account.”
“To whom?”
“A woman.”
My chest tightened.
“What woman?”
“I don’t remember her last name.”
“First name?”
Linda closed her eyes.
“Claire.”
I stopped breathing.
“That’s impossible.”
The affair supposedly began eight months earlier.
Tom had died five years ago.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
“Claire Bennett?”
“I don’t know.”
I immediately called Claire.
She answered.
“Sarah?”
“Did you know Ethan five years ago?”
Silence.
My heart sank.
“Claire.”
“Yes.”
The world seemed to stop.
“How long have you actually known my husband?”
Her voice cracked.
“Seven years.”
I stared at Linda.
“You told me the affair started eight months ago.”
“It did.”
“But you knew him.”
“Yes.”
“How?”
“We worked together.”
“Where?”
“At his first company.”
My mouth went dry.
“What happened?”
“He got accused of taking client deposits.”
My heart began pounding.
“You were there?”
“Yes.”
“Did you know about the money?”
Claire became silent.
Then she whispered, “I was the employee who found it.”
Everything shifted again.
Tom’s old check.
Claire.
The missing client deposits.
The settlement.
I whispered, “Did Ethan pay you twenty thousand dollars?”
Claire started crying.
“No.”
“Then why is there a check with your name?”
“Because he was trying to blame me.”
I closed my eyes.
“What happened?”
“He opened an account using my employee information.”
My stomach dropped.
Just like Marcus.
Just like now.
Claire’s voice trembled.
“When I confronted him, he said nobody would believe a twenty-six-year-old assistant over the owner’s son.”
“Did Tom know?”
“Yes.”
“Is that why Tom paid the settlement?”
“Yes.”
“Why did you come back into Ethan’s life?”
Claire didn’t answer for several seconds.
“Because he found me.”
“What does that mean?”
“He contacted me last year.”
“Why?”
“He said he wanted to apologize.”
My stomach turned.
“And you believed him.”
“Yes.”
“Then you slept with him.”
Her voice broke.
“Yes.”
I almost hung up.
Then she said something that stopped me.
“Sarah, I think he contacted me because I knew about the old fraud.”
I went still.
“What?”
“He didn’t reconnect because he loved me.”
She was crying openly now.
“He reconnected because Tom was dead, Linda didn’t know the details, and I was the last person who could prove what he had done seven years ago.”
I felt ice moving through my veins.
“And sleeping with you gave him leverage.”
“Yes.”
“If you exposed him, he could expose the affair.”
“Yes.”
It was the same pattern again.
Find fear.
Create shame.
Build leverage.
I looked at Linda.
Her face was destroyed.
Then my phone buzzed.
A message from Ethan.
One photograph.
Noah leaving Dr. Carter’s office with me.
Taken from across the street.
Below it, he wrote:
May you like
You really think you know where your son is every second?
My heart stopped.
