Chapter 2: The Missing Money
“Three hundred thousand dollars?”
I barely recognized my own voice.
Mark didn't answer.
He stared at my phone as if the message on the screen had physically struck him.
Detective Harris noticed.
“What does that mean, Mr. Carter?”
“Nothing.”
I laughed once.
It wasn't a happy sound.
“Nothing?”
I turned toward him.
“Someone just told me to ask you about three hundred thousand dollars, and you say it's nothing?”
Mark rubbed both hands over his face.
“Sarah, this isn't the time.”
“This is exactly the time.”
Emma was behind those hospital doors.
Our seven-year-old daughter was unconscious because someone had put a powerful sedative into her lemonade.
Police had found the same substance in my husband's car.
And now a stranger was telling me three hundred thousand dollars had disappeared.
There was no longer room for coincidence.
Detective Harris pulled out a chair.
“Mr. Carter, sit down.”
Mark didn't move.
“Sit.”
He finally sat.
I remained standing.
“Where is the money?” I asked.
Mark looked at me.
“What money?”
“The three hundred thousand.”
“I don't know what you're talking about.”
I felt something inside me break.
Not completely.
Just enough to let the fear in.
“Mark, our savings account had almost three hundred thousand dollars.”
He swallowed.
“Yes.”
“Yesterday I checked it.”
“I know.”
“There was less than five thousand left.”
His eyes lowered.
“I was going to tell you.”
“When?”
He didn't answer.
“When Emma turned eighteen?”
“Sarah…”
“No.”
My voice rose.
“When were you going to tell me?”
Detective Harris watched him carefully.
“Mr. Carter, have you withdrawn or transferred money from your joint accounts?”
Mark remained silent.
“That silence is becoming an answer.”
Finally, Mark whispered:
“Yes.”
My chest tightened.
“How much?”
“All of it wasn't mine.”
“What does that mean?”
“I borrowed some.”
“From whom?”
Mark looked at me.
“Rachel.”
The room went silent.
My sister.
Rachel had lent my husband money.
My husband had secretly taken hundreds of thousands from our savings.
And somehow, Rachel had been involved.
I stepped backward.
“How long?”
Mark closed his eyes.
“Almost a year.”
“A year?”
“I was going to replace it.”
“With what?”
“I had a plan.”
“What plan?”
He said nothing.
Detective Harris opened his notebook.
“Gambling?”
Mark's head snapped up.
I stared at him.
“Gambling?”
He looked at the floor.
“It's not what you think.”
I almost laughed.
“Then tell me what I should think.”
He whispered:
“I lost money.”
“How much?”
“Not three hundred thousand.”
“How much?”
“Around two hundred.”
My stomach turned.
“Two hundred thousand?”
“I was winning at first.”
“Winning?”
He nodded.
“I thought I could recover everything.”
“And when you lost?”
“I borrowed.”
“From Rachel.”
“Yes.”
“And when that wasn't enough?”
He didn't answer.
Detective Harris did.
“You borrowed from people outside the family.”
Mark looked at him.
“Who told you that?”
“We're investigating the vial.”
The detective leaned forward.
“We're also investigating your financial records.”
Mark's breathing changed.
“Detective…”
“Where did the missing money go?”
“I don't know.”
“Try again.”
Mark stared at the floor.
“Some of it went to gambling.”
“And the rest?”
“I paid debts.”
“To whom?”
Mark said nothing.
Detective Harris closed his notebook.
“Then we'll find out.”
He stood.
“Don't leave Baltimore.”
Mark looked up.
“Am I under arrest?”
“Not yet.”
Those two words followed me after the detective left.
Not yet.
At 2:13 a.m., a doctor finally came out.
“Mrs. Carter?”
I jumped up.
“How is she?”
“She’s stable.”
My knees nearly gave out.
“But?”
The doctor hesitated.
“She was exposed to a very strong sedative. Fortunately, she received treatment quickly.”
“Will she wake up?”
“We expect her to.”
I covered my face.
Tears came before I could stop them.
“Can I see her?”
“Yes.”
I entered the room alone.
Emma looked impossibly small beneath the white hospital blanket.
There were wires attached to her.
A monitor beeped steadily beside her bed.
I sat down.
“Happy birthday, baby.”
My voice cracked.
“I’m sorry.”
I touched her hair.
“I should have protected you.”
Her eyelids didn't move.
Then I noticed something.
A tiny red mark on her wrist.
I leaned closer.
There were two small punctures.
Not one.
Two.
My heart began pounding.
“Doctor!”
A nurse rushed in.
I pointed.
“What are those?”
She examined Emma's wrist.
“I don't know.”
“Could they be from the IV?”
“No.”
She looked toward the door.
“I'll get the doctor.”
I stared at those two marks.
A terrible thought entered my mind.
The substance in the lemonade might not have been the only way Emma had been drugged.
At 3:01 a.m., Detective Harris returned.
I showed him the marks.
His expression changed immediately.
“Don't touch them.”
“I haven't.”
He called for photographs.
Then he asked:
“Did anyone have access to her before she collapsed?”
“Everyone at the party.”
“Names.”
I gave him every name I could remember.
Then he asked:
“Your sister?”
“Yes.”
“Your husband?”
“Yes.”
“Anyone else?”
I thought about it.
“No.”
He looked at the marks again.
“Mrs. Carter, I'm going to ask you something difficult.”
“What?”
“Did Emma say anything strange before she collapsed?”
I searched my memory.
She had been laughing.
Running around.
Opening presents.
Then...
I remembered.
She had pulled me aside.
“Mommy?”
“What?”
“Uncle Mark told me not to tell you something.”
My blood turned cold.
“What?”
Emma had giggled.
“He said it was a birthday surprise.”
I had kissed her forehead.
“What surprise?”
“I don't know.”
Then she had run back toward the kitchen.
I looked at Detective Harris.
“I remembered something.”
“What?”
I told him.
His face hardened.
“Your husband told your daughter to keep a secret from you?”
“Yes.”
“Anything else?”
“No.”
He took out his phone.
“I need to speak with Mr. Carter.”
Mark was asleep in a chair down the hallway.
Or pretending to be.
Detective Harris woke him.
“Mr. Carter, your wife says you told Emma to keep a secret.”
Mark looked at me.
“What?”
“Did you?”
“No.”
“You didn't?”
“No.”
“Then why does your wife remember your daughter saying it?”
Mark stood.
“Because Emma misunderstood.”
“What was the surprise?”
Mark's face went blank.
“I don't remember.”
Detective Harris stared at him.
“You don't remember what you told your seven-year-old daughter?”
“I said a lot of things today.”
“About a surprise?”
Mark hesitated.
“Yes.”
“What surprise?”
“I bought her a necklace.”
He reached into his pocket.
A small box appeared.
He opened it.
Inside was a silver unicorn necklace.
I stared at it.
It was beautiful.
But something felt wrong.
I looked at Mark.
“You gave it to her?”
“No. I was waiting for the cake.”
The detective took the box.
“Where did you buy this?”
“Online.”
“When?”
“Last week.”
He examined it.
Then looked at Mark.
“Why does the receipt show yesterday?”
Mark froze.
I felt my pulse jump.
Detective Harris turned the screen toward us.
The necklace had been purchased at 11:47 p.m.
The night before Emma's birthday.
With a credit card that wasn't ours.
“Whose card?” I whispered.
Mark didn't answer.
Detective Harris already knew.
He looked directly at him.
“Rachel's.”
At dawn, Rachel arrived at the hospital.
She carried flowers.
White roses.
She smiled when she saw me.
“Sarah.”
I didn't hug her.
Her smile faded.
“What happened?”
I held up the necklace.
“Why did you buy this for Emma?”
Rachel stared at it.
“I didn't.”
“The receipt says you did.”
“I said I didn't.”
“Then who used your card?”
She looked at Mark.
For the first time, fear appeared in her eyes.
Real fear.
“Mark,” she whispered.
My husband didn't look at her.
Rachel stepped closer.
“What did you do?”
Mark finally raised his head.
“Not here.”
Her face went pale.
“It's already happening, isn't it?”
My heart stopped.
“What is happening?”
Neither of them answered.
I stepped between them.
“What are you two hiding?”
Rachel's eyes filled with tears.
Then she whispered something that made the entire room go silent.
“Sarah...”
May you like
She looked at Emma's hospital room.
“Your daughter wasn't supposed to be the target.”
