Chương 8
“Daniel’s friend.”
“What friend?”
“Mark Ellison.”
The name was vaguely familiar.
I had heard Daniel mention a Mark from his gym, maybe twice.
“What did you give him?”
“The code.”
“Why?”
Vanessa sounded close to tears.
“Daniel asked me to.”
“When?”
“This morning.”
My entire body went still.
“This morning when?”
“After we landed.”
“What exactly did he ask?”
“He said he forgot documents he needed for the meetings here.”
“There were no meetings.”
“I know that now.”
Her voice cracked.
“I know.”
“What documents?”
“He didn’t tell me.”
“And you gave Mark the code.”
“Yes.”
“Why didn’t Daniel give it to him himself?”
“He said he was dealing with the rental car and his phone was dying.”
That explanation was so ordinary it almost made me angrier.
No mastermind.
No elaborate plot.
Just convenience.
A favor delegated between people who did not consider me part of the equation.
“Did you text Mark?”
“Yes.”
“Save those messages.”
“I already did.”
“Send them to yourself somewhere Daniel can’t access.”
“Okay.”
“Did Mark tell you what he took?”
“No.”
“Did he confirm he went inside?”
“He texted done.”
My mother looked ready to explode.
I held up a hand.
“Vanessa, did Daniel ever tell you what was in the emergency account?”
“No.”
“Did he tell you he was transferring money before the trip?”
“No.”
“What did he tell you about paying for Hawaii?”
“That he had points, company credits, and some money from a bonus.”
“Did you see him pay?”
“Some things.”
“Which things?”
“The hotel deposit.”
“With what?”
“I don’t know.”
“You were standing there.”
“He used his phone.”
I pressed my lips together.
This was exactly why witnesses were frustrating.
They remembered emotions and outfits and what someone said over dinner.
They did not remember the last four digits on a payment method.
“Did he buy anything expensive recently?”
Vanessa hesitated.
“Yes.”
“What?”
“A watch.”
“For himself?”
“No.”
Her voice dropped.
“For me.”
My mother made a disgusted sound.
“When?”
“Last week.”
“How much?”
“I don’t know exactly.”
“Vanessa.”
“Eight thousand.”
I closed my eyes.
My mother mouthed, Eight thousand?
I nodded.
“Where is it?”
“With me.”
“Do not sell it.”
“I wasn’t going to.”
“Do not give it back to Daniel yet either.”
“What am I supposed to do with it?”
“Keep it secure.”
She laughed once, a broken sound.
“This is insane.”
“Yes.”
For the first time, I almost felt sorry for her.
Then I remembered her hand on my pregnant stomach at the shower.
Her telling me Daniel was going to be such a good girl-dad.
The pity disappeared.
Not completely.
Just enough.
“Did you know I was still sleeping with my husband?”
I asked.
Vanessa did not answer.
My mother looked away.
“I asked you a question.”
“No.”
“Did you ask him?”
“Yes.”
“And?”
“He said you hadn’t been together in months.”
I stared at Lily in my mother’s arms.
Daniel and I had conceived Lily naturally.
There had been no months-long abstinence.
Even during the pregnancy, until near the end, we had been intimate.
Not often.
But enough to make his lie grotesque.
“What else did he tell you about me?”
“Claire, I don’t think—”
“What else?”
She inhaled.
“He said you were controlling.”
I almost laughed.
“Of course.”
“He said you monitored all the money.”
“Apparently not very well.”
“He said you checked his phone.”
“I didn’t.”
“I know that now.”
“No, you don’t.”
I heard my own sharpness.
“You know what he told you was false.”
“That doesn’t automatically make everything I say true.”
She went quiet.
“I’m sorry.”
“So am I.”
Another silence.
Then she said, “There’s something else.”
My mother’s eyes closed.
She had developed the expression of someone listening to a very bad serialized podcast against her will.
“What?”
Vanessa lowered her voice.
“Daniel told me the consulting payments were yours.”
My heartbeat changed.
“Explain.”
“He said you did independent compliance work for the company.”
“I never did.”
“He said you didn’t want your name public because of conflicts with your regular job.”
“I haven’t had a regular job since June.”
“I know.”
“No, you know now.”
“Right.”
She sounded exhausted.
“What did you actually see?”
“Invoices.”
My fingers tightened around the phone.
“How many?”
“I don’t know.”
“Approximately.”
“Maybe six or seven.”
“For what amounts?”
“They varied.”
“Give me a range.”
“Five thousand to twelve thousand.”
My mother sat down very slowly.
“Were they paid?”
“Yes.”
“To where?”
“I don’t know.”
I wanted to scream.
Instead I asked, “Who approved them?”
“Daniel submitted them.”
“That’s not approval.”
“Brad signed some.”
The CFO.
“Did you process them?”
Vanessa hesitated too long.
“Yes.”
There it was.
Her fear.
Not the affair.
Not my anger.
Her name in the workflow.
“What did you do exactly?”
“I routed them for payment.”
“Did you verify the vendor?”
“I thought Daniel had.”
“That wasn’t my question.”
“No.”
Her voice became defensive.
“He was my boss.”
“So?”
“So when your boss tells you his wife is doing approved consulting and sends you signed paperwork, you don’t automatically assume it’s fraud.”
I let the word sit there.
Fraud.
She had said it, not me.
“I’m not asking you to confess to anything.”
“Sounds like you are.”
“I’m asking what happened.”
“You’re interviewing me.”
“Yes.”
“Well, stop.”
The sudden anger was more believable than the tears had been.
“You’re not my investigator.”
“No.”
“And I’m not the reason your marriage is over.”
That one landed.
I looked at Lily.
“No,” I said.
“You’re not.”
Vanessa breathed hard into the phone.
Then, quieter, she said, “I knew he was married.”
My mother looked at me.
“I knew you were pregnant.”
Vanessa’s voice trembled.
“I believed the separation story because I wanted it to be true.”
I said nothing.
“I’m not asking you to forgive me.”
“Good.”
“I just need you to understand I didn’t know about the money.”
“I don’t know what you knew.”
“That’s fair.”
May you like
For the first time, I believed something she said without qualification.
Not because she had earned trust.
