Chương 10
Mark looked at her sharply.
“Do not make her the victim tonight.”
Karen flinched.
“I’m not.”
“You are.”
“I’m trying to tell you she wasn’t sitting around planning how to hurt Lily.”
“She put sleeping pills in her juice.”
“Yes.”
The word came out barely audible.
Mark’s breathing changed.
Karen looked toward the hallway.
“I know what she did.”
“No, you keep finding reasons around it.”
“I’m telling you why she was desperate.”
“Desperate people still know when they’re poisoning a child.”
Karen stood.
“Don’t use that word.”
“What word?”
“Poisoning.”
“That’s what the doctor called it.”
“She thought she was making Lily sleep.”
“That does not help.”
“I know.”
“You keep saying that too.”
Karen reached for her purse.
I thought she was leaving.
Instead she pulled out a folded envelope.
“What is that?” I asked.
“Bank statement.”
Mark laughed again.
“Of course you brought paperwork.”
Karen slid it across the table.
“I found it at my house.”
“Why would Natalie’s bank statement be at your house?”
“It isn’t hers.”
Mark opened the envelope.
The account was in Karen’s name.
There were withdrawals.
Cash advances.
Electronic transfers.
Several payments to services I did not recognize.
Mark ran his finger down the page.
“What am I looking at?”
“She had access.”
“To your account?”
“I gave her a card years ago for emergencies.”
“You gave a gambling addict your debit card?”
“I didn’t know she was gambling when I gave it to her.”
“When did you cancel it?”
Karen said nothing.
Mark looked up.
“When?”
“Yesterday.”
The room went quiet.
“You knew yesterday.”
“I knew money was missing yesterday.”
“How much?”
Karen swallowed.
“Eleven thousand.”
Mark sat down.
The anger left him so abruptly that he looked sick.
“Eleven thousand from you?”
“Yes.”
“On top of the five?”
“The five was part of it.”
He stared at the statement.
I could almost see him adding numbers that no longer had any relationship to household bills.
“How much of our money is gone?”
Karen looked at him helplessly.
“I don’t know.”
Mark grabbed his phone.
This time neither of us stopped him.
He opened the joint checking account.
Then savings.
Then another account.
His thumb moved faster.
“What?”
I asked.
He did not answer.
“Mark.”
He turned the screen toward me.
I saw numbers, transfers, dates, and balances that meant nothing until he said, “Our emergency fund had twenty-three thousand dollars in June.”
The current balance was under four thousand.
Karen made a small sound.
Mark opened a credit-card account.
Then another.
His face tightened further.
“I don’t recognize this one.”
“What do you mean?”
“It’s in my name.”
He opened the details.
The balance was more than nine thousand dollars.
He stared at the screen.
“I never applied for this.”
Karen whispered, “Oh, Natalie.”
Mark looked at her.
“Don’t.”
He stood.
“I need to get into the house.”
“It’s after midnight,” I said.
“My financial records are there.”
“So are police.”
“Good.”
“Mark.”
“I’m not waiting until morning while she empties whatever is left.”
He reached for his coat.
I stepped in front of him.
“You’re not driving like this.”
“Move.”
“You’re shaking.”
“I’m fine.”
“You’re not.”
“Dad.”
“Give me the keys.”
His eyes flashed.
For one second I thought we might actually fight in my kitchen.
Then he threw the keys onto the table.
“Fine.”
I drove.
Karen stayed behind because neither Mark nor I trusted her not to call Natalie if she went home.
She did not argue.
The streets were nearly empty.
Mark sat rigidly in the passenger seat, scrolling through account records.
Every few minutes he made a noise under his breath.
“What now?”
“Two cash advances.”
“How much?”
“Three grand.”
“From the new card?”
“Yes.”
“Can you freeze it?”
“I already did.”
He tapped the screen.
“And there’s a second card.”
“In your name?”
“Hers.”
“That’s different.”
“It’s twenty-seven thousand.”
I looked at him.
He stared straight ahead.
“I thought we owed six.”
“You knew about it?”
“I knew about one card.”
“Could the balance be purchases?”
“At two in the morning?”
I had no answer.
He kept scrolling.
“She paid one of these gambling sites from our checking.”
“That could help investigators.”
“I don’t care about investigators right now.”
“You should.”
“I care that she used my overtime checks to pay gambling debt while telling me we couldn’t afford to fix the furnace.”
The bitterness in his voice was deeper than anger.
“She made me feel guilty for buying new work boots.”
I glanced at him.
He laughed once.
“Three weeks ago.”
The police cruiser was still outside his house when we arrived.
Another unmarked car sat at the curb.
An officer met us in the driveway and told Mark he could not enter yet.
“It’s my house.”
“I understand.”
“I need financial documents.”
“We can arrange access when the detective clears it.”
“When?”
The officer glanced at the house.
“Soon.”
“That word means nothing tonight.”
The front curtains shifted.
Natalie stood behind the glass.
Even from the driveway I could see her face.
She saw Mark.
He saw her.
Neither moved.
Then she disappeared.
Mark took one step toward the porch.
I caught his sleeve.
He yanked free.
“Don’t touch me.”
The front door opened.
A detective stepped outside before Mark could reach it.
He introduced himself as Detective Shaw.
He was in his forties, tired-looking, with rain darkening the shoulders of his jacket.
“Mr. Whitaker, I need you to stay here.”
“My wife opened a credit card in my name.”
Shaw’s expression sharpened.
“What?”
Mark held up his phone.
“She emptied our savings.”
“Can you show me?”
Mark opened the account.
Shaw looked without touching the device.
“Do you have access to the application history?”
“I don’t know.”
“We’ll document it.”
“I want her out of my house.”
Shaw paused.
“There are child-safety restrictions being put in place tonight.”
“That wasn’t what I said.”
“I know.”
“Then answer me.”
Before Shaw could, Natalie appeared in the doorway behind him.
May you like
No coat.
No shoes.
