Chapter 6 - Suzanne Wasn't Asking for MoneyShe was collecting information
Skylar barely slept.
At 5:30 a.m., she received an email from Alvarez.
There was one attachment.
A corporate registration file.
Mercer Risk Solutions.
Owner:
Suzanne Mercer.
Business purpose:
Financial consulting and risk management.
Registered two years earlier.
But the business had no employees.
No office.
No website.
No clients listed.
Mara stared at the document.
“Shell company.”
Skylar nodded.
“What was it used for?”
“We don't know yet.”
They discovered more by noon.
The company had received deposits from five unknown sources.
Three were connected to gambling websites.
Two came from insurance brokerage accounts.
Mara circled one payment.
$18,500.
“What's this?”
Alvarez looked at the recipient.
“That's an insurance commission.”
“For what?”
He opened another document.
A policy number.
Skylar's name.
She stared at it.
“This is another policy.”
Alvarez nodded.
“Same beneficiary.”
Derek.
Skylar felt sick.
“How many?”
“Three known policies.”
“Three?”
“Yes.”
Mara counted them.
$150,000.
$80,000.
$60,000.
Total:
$290,000.
Skylar sat down.
“What kind of husband does that?”
Mara's voice was quiet.
“The kind we're beginning to investigate.”
Then another piece fell into place.
Suzanne's demands weren't random.
Every request for Skylar's bank card had been accompanied by personal questions.
Which bank?
Which branch?
Did Skylar use a PIN?
Did she keep backup cards?
Where were important documents stored?
Which financial institutions did she use?
At the time, Skylar thought Suzanne was simply nosy.
Now they looked like reconnaissance.
They were collecting information.
Not money.
Information.
That afternoon, Skylar asked for access to the home-security archive.
She watched Suzanne entering the apartment over the last year.
Most visits were harmless.
Then one recording stood out.
Suzanne entered at 10:12 p.m.
Derek wasn't home.
She walked directly to the office.
She opened the desk.
She removed a folder.
Skylar recognized it.
Her tax documents.
Suzanne photographed several pages with her phone.
Then she opened another drawer.
Inside was Skylar's passport.
Suzanne photographed that too.
Then she left.
Skylar stared at the screen.
“She had access to my identity documents.”
Mara nodded.
“For how long?”
“Apparently over a year.”
They reported it.
Then investigators contacted the credit bureaus.
A second bombshell appeared.
A credit application had been submitted in Skylar's name.
A third.
Then a fourth.
All denied.
But each application contained enough personal information to prove whoever submitted them had intimate knowledge of Skylar's life.
The person knew her mother's maiden name.
Her first employer.
Her childhood address.
Her account history.
Her previous apartment.
Her security-question answers.
Skylar whispered:
“They knew everything.”
Mara looked at her.
“Someone close to you knew everything.”
That evening, Alvarez called again.
“There's more.”
They met at the station.
He placed a transcript on the desk.
It was extracted from a cloud backup belonging to Suzanne.
Messages.
Derek.
Suzanne.
For months.
The first message was simple.
She won't give the card.
Derek replied:
Make her feel guilty.
Then:
Don't threaten her yet.
Another:
The apartment is the key.
Skylar's breathing slowed.
She scrolled.
Then she found the message dated eight weeks earlier.
Suzanne:
What if she leaves?
Derek:
She won't.
Suzanne:
And if she does?
Derek:
Then we make sure she can't afford to stay gone.
Skylar's stomach twisted.
Another message followed.
Derek:
Once the equity line closes, we clear the debts.
Suzanne:
And what about the policy?
Derek:
That stays quiet.
Skylar stared at the screen.
Mara asked softly:
“There's something missing.”
“What?”
“Who was supposed to trigger the policy?”
Skylar scrolled further.
The next message was from Suzanne.
You said there would be an accident.
Derek's response appeared below it.
There still can be.
Skylar stopped breathing.
The room seemed to tilt.
Mara immediately asked Alvarez:
“Where is Derek?”
The detective checked.
“His home.”
Skylar's phone buzzed.
A message from Derek.
We need to talk tonight. Alone.
Then another.
Come home.
May you like
Then one final message.
You already know too much.
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