Chapter 6 - The Lie About the Night Carol Died
Marcus backed away.
“Dad, I can explain.”
I couldn't speak.
Patricia took the phone from my hand.
She read the message.
Then looked at Marcus.
“What happened that night?”
Marcus shook his head.
“Nothing.”
“Then why would someone claim you lied?”
“I didn't.”
I stared at him.
“Marcus.”
He closed his eyes.
“I was twenty-four.”
“What happened?”
“It was eleven years ago.”
“I know.”
“You don't understand.”
“Then make me understand.”
He sat down.
For almost a minute, he said nothing.
Finally he whispered:
“I wasn't with Mom when she died.”
I frowned.
“I know that.”
“No.”
His eyes filled with tears.
“You don't know where I was.”
The room went silent.
“What are you talking about?”
“I told you I was working.”
“You said you were out of town.”
“I wasn't.”
I felt a cold pressure in my chest.
“Where were you?”
Marcus looked at Patricia.
She nodded.
He lowered his voice.
“I was at Gregory Bell's office.”
I stood so quickly that pain shot through my leg.
Patricia caught my arm.
“Sit.”
I ignored her.
“You were with Bell the night your mother died?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“I needed money.”
My voice shook.
“For what?”
“Debt.”
I stared at him.
“How much?”
“I don't remember.”
“You don't remember?”
“I was drinking.”
I closed my eyes.
Carol had died at home.
I had found her in the bedroom.
The doctors had called it a sudden cardiac event.
Marcus had told me he was out of town.
For eleven years, I had believed him.
Now I didn't know what was true.
“Did Bell give you money?”
“Yes.”
“How much?”
“Ten thousand.”
“And what did you give him?”
Marcus looked down.
“Documents.”
“What documents?”
He couldn't answer.
Patricia stepped closer.
“Marcus.”
He finally whispered:
“Mom's account information.”
My stomach turned.
“You stole from your mother.”
“I didn't think she'd die.”
“That isn't the point.”
“I know.”
“You didn't just lie to me. You took her information.”
“I paid everything back.”
“Did you?”
Marcus hesitated.
“Mostly.”
Patricia asked, “Did Gregory Bell use the information?”
“Yes.”
“For what?”
“I don't know.”
I stared at my son.
Eleven years of grief suddenly had another shadow attached to it.
“Did you tell Diana?”
“No.”
“Then how did she meet Bell?”
“I don't know.”
Patricia asked, “Did Bell know your mother?”
“Yes.”
“Did he know she was concerned about him?”
Marcus nodded.
“And did he know where the house documents were?”
“Yes.”
I felt dizzy.
“Why?”
“Because Mom told me.”
“Your mother told you?”
“She asked me once to help her move paperwork.”
I sat down.
Carol had been afraid.
She had documented Bell.
She had hidden money.
She had warned me.
And my son had unknowingly opened the door for him.
But there was something I still couldn't understand.
“Marcus.”
“Yes?”
“What happened to the ten thousand?”
He swallowed.
“I gave it to Diana.”
I stared at him.
“Diana?”
“This was before we were married.”
“Why?”
“She said she could help me fix everything.”
Patricia's expression changed.
“Did Diana know Bell?”
Marcus hesitated.
“I think so.”
“When?”
“Back then.”
The room fell silent.
Patricia picked up her phone.
“We need Bell's full background.”
She called the investigator.
Then she looked at Marcus.
“And we need to know exactly what happened with Carol's account eleven years ago.”
Hours later, we had the answer.
The hidden account had been accessed shortly after Carol's death.
The first unauthorized transfer?
Ten thousand dollars.
The recipient?
An account linked to Gregory Bell.
I stared at the record.
Marcus covered his face.
“I didn't know.”
“You should have.”
“I was young.”
“You were old enough to know stealing was wrong.”
He nodded.
“I know.”
The next transfer was five thousand.
Then three.
Then another.
The account eventually stopped moving.
Until two years ago.
When Diana's business began receiving money.
I looked at the dates.
Patricia noticed it too.
“Diana didn't discover that account recently.”
“No.”
“She knew about it when she married Marcus?”
“Apparently.”
A notification appeared on Patricia's phone.
She read it.
Then went completely still.
“What?”
She turned the screen toward me.
A bank record had just been retrieved.
A withdrawal had been attempted from the Carol account.
That afternoon.
Today.
Someone had tried to move the remaining balance.
The request came from an IP address registered near my house.
Marcus looked horrified.
“Diana was home.”
Patricia shook her head.
“Not necessarily.”
Then her phone rang.
The investigator.
Patricia listened.
“What?”
She stood.
“Say that again.”
Her face drained of color.
She looked at us.
“Gregory Bell is not in Savannah.”
“Where is he?”
Patricia answered quietly.
“He's at your house.”
My entire body went still.
“That's impossible.”
The investigator sent another photograph.
Taken thirty minutes earlier.
Gregory Bell was standing beside the silver pickup.
In my driveway.
Wearing the same gray jacket from his photo.
May you like
And behind him was Diana.
Holding a set of keys.
