Chương 10
Lauren was quiet again.
“My brother was engaged once before.”
The room seemed to lose some of its air.
“To who?”
“Her name was Natalie.”
A pause.
“She owned a dental practice.”
I wrote the name down.
“What did Diane do?”
“Nothing obvious.”
Lauren gave a humorless laugh.
“That was always her talent.”
She explained that Natalie had met Diane through Chase.
At first, Diane had been charming.
Helpful.
Warm.
She offered wedding advice.
She connected Natalie with vendors.
She talked about family.
Then the questions started.
How much did Natalie make?
Did she own the practice outright?
Was there a retirement account?
Would she consider combining finances after marriage?
The relationship ended before the wedding.
“Why?”
“Because Natalie found out Chase had been asking about a loan against her business.”
My fingers tightened around the pen.
“Did she confront him?”
“Yes.”
“What happened?”
“He said his mother misunderstood something.”
Lauren paused.
“He always says that.”
I looked at the email Chase had sent me.
Private family financial matters.
Misunderstanding.
Protecting himself.
“What happened to Natalie?”
“She left.”
“Did Diane get money?”
“I don’t know.”
“That’s not helpful.”
“I know.”
Lauren sounded frustrated with herself.
“But that’s the point.”
“She’s careful.”
“She never stands close enough to the fire.”
I looked at the notes I had made.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
The question came out sharper than I intended.
Lauren accepted it.
“Because Chase is my brother.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“No.”
Her voice cracked slightly.
“It’s the ugly answer.”
She took a breath.
“I hated what I suspected.”
“But I also hated the idea of being the person who destroyed his life because I was suspicious.”
I softened slightly.
Not because it excused anything.
Because I understood the feeling.
“Did you tell Natalie?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because I didn’t have proof.”
That sentence bothered me.
Not because it was wrong.
Because I had said the same thing all day.
Lauren continued.
“After Natalie left, Chase stopped talking to me for almost a year.”
“He told my mother I was jealous of him.”
“That I couldn’t stand seeing him happy.”
“What did Diane say?”
“She agreed.”
Of course she did.
“Then why call now?”
A long pause.
“Because last week I saw Chase’s wedding announcement.”
“That was public.”
“I know.”
Another pause.
“But then I saw your name.”
I waited.
“You’re Whitney Hayes.”
The way she said my name made me uncomfortable.
“Yes.”
“I searched you.”
I almost laughed.
“Apparently everyone does.”
“Your company.”
“Your work.”
“The fraud cases.”
My jaw tightened.
“What does that matter?”
“It matters because you’re not someone who would ignore missing money forever.”
That should have sounded like a compliment.
Instead, it felt like an explanation for why I had been selected.
I looked at the spreadsheet.
“How many women?”
Lauren did not answer.
That was an answer.
“How many?”
“I know of two before you.”
“Before me.”
“Yes.”
The phrase landed differently.
Not first.
Not unique.
Not loved.
A position.
I ended the call after getting Lauren’s email address.
She promised to send anything she had.
I did not know whether I trusted her.
That was becoming my new normal.
Not knowing.
At eight the next morning, I met Detective Price at the station.
I brought only what Rachel advised.
No theories.
No accusations.
No speech.
That was difficult.
I wanted to place every piece on the table and say, Look.
Look how obvious this is.
But obvious to me was not the same as proven.
Detective Price was younger than I expected.
Late thirties.
Plain gray shirt.
No dramatic detective energy.
He reviewed my statement while I sat across from him.
“You understand that because you and Mr. Mercer were in a relationship, this is complicated.”
“Yes.”
“And because you admit making physical contact.”
“I do.”
“Tell me why.”
I looked at the table.
“Because he blocked the only exit and raised his fist.”
“Did he touch you?”
“No.”
“Did he say he would hit you?”
“No.”
“Did he threaten you verbally?”
“Not directly.”
He wrote something down.
I felt irritation rise.
“Does that matter?”
“It matters because details matter.”
“I know.”
“Do you?”
The question was not hostile.
That annoyed me more.
“Yes.”
He nodded.
“Walk me through the moment.”
So I did.
Slowly.
The door.
The card.
Diane.
Chase moving.
The fist.
I did not say he wanted to hurt me.
I did not say he intended to hit me.
I said what I knew.
When I finished, Detective Price folded his hands.
“Do you have training in self-defense?”
“Yes.”
“How long?”
“Three years.”
“Did Mr. Mercer know?”
“Yes.”
“How did he know?”
“I told him.”
“When?”
“Early in our relationship.”
“Why?”
“Because he asked why I went to classes twice a week.”
Detective Price glanced at his notes.
“Interesting.”
“What?”
“Mr. Mercer mentioned your training.”
My stomach tightened.
“What did he say?”
“He said you were physically confident and sometimes aggressive.”
I laughed once.
Not because it was funny.
Because it was such a familiar trick.
Make the thing that protects me sound dangerous.
“What else did he say?”
Detective Price looked back down.
“He said you became angry when he suggested slowing down wedding spending.”
“That’s false.”
“Can you prove it?”
“Yes.”
“How?”
I opened my folder.
“Because I have records.”
I showed him the wedding budget.
The deposits I paid.
The agreements.
The messages where Chase promised to cover certain costs.
Detective Price studied them.
“Did you share financial information with Mr. Mercer voluntarily?”
“Yes.”
“What kind?”
“My income.”
“My assets.”
“General information.”
“Account numbers?”
“No.”
“Passwords?”
“No.”
“PIN?”
“No.”
He nodded.
“Did he ever pressure you for access?”
I thought of every casual comment.
Every question.
Every time Diane had asked what my business was worth.
“Yes.”
“When?”
I opened my mouth.
Then stopped.
Because suddenly I understood the problem.
Not every warning sign had looked like a warning sign.
Some had looked like intimacy.
May you like
Some had looked like curiosity.
Some had looked like a man preparing for a future.
