Chương 12
“I don’t know.”
“Did he take anything else?”
“His passport.”
I looked at Robert.
His face tightened.
“Have you contacted him?”
“A hundred times.”
“Police?”
“He hasn’t been missing long enough.”
“That is not how missing-person reports work.”
“I know.”
She sounded angry with herself.
“I know that now.”
“Then why haven’t you called?”
“Because if he comes back, everything becomes real.”
The sentence hung there.
Not logical.
Human.
I understood it immediately.
Lauren had spent years helping convert panic into paperwork.
Calling the police would convert panic into fact.
“Call them,” I said.
She did not answer.
“Lauren.”
“What if he tells them everything?”
“Then he tells them everything.”
“You say that because you think you’re safe.”
“No.”
I looked at the transaction sheets covering my desk.
“I say it because none of us are safe from what we did anymore.”
She was quiet for several seconds.
Then she said, “There’s something else.”
I almost laughed.
“Of course there is.”
“Aaron kept a folder.”
“What kind of folder?”
“Paper.”
“Where?”
“In our home office.”
“What was in it?”
“Loan documents.”
“Statements.”
“Copies of transfers.”
“Notes.”
“About what?”
“Who got what.”
Robert leaned closer.
“Do you still have it?”
“No.”
My stomach tightened.
“Aaron took it?”
“I thought he did.”
“What does that mean?”
“I checked the office this morning.”
“It was gone.”
“Then I checked my car.”
“Why?”
“Because I remembered moving boxes last week.”
“And?”
“It was in the trunk.”
Robert and I looked at each other.
“Do not touch it,” I said.
“I already touched it.”
“Fine.”
“Touch it less.”
Despite everything, Lauren gave a small, broken laugh.
Then she stopped.
“There’s a sheet in there with your name on it.”
My pulse jumped.
“What does it say?”
“Amounts.”
“What amounts?”
“Money transferred from your accounts.”
“How many?”
“A lot.”
“Total.”
Lauren went silent.
“Read it.”
“I already did.”
“Then tell me.”
Her voice was barely above a whisper.
“One hundred thirty-eight thousand dollars.”
For a moment, I could not process the number.
Not because I couldn’t afford to understand it.
Because I had not understood what generosity looked like when accumulated.
Mortgage supplements.
Utilities.
Emergencies.
Credit cards.
Repairs.
Transfers.
Small rescues stacked until they became a private fortune.
Robert leaned back slowly.
I said, “Is that all money I knowingly paid?”
“No.”
The word was quiet.
My fingers went numb.
“How much wasn’t?”
“I don’t know yet.”
“Lauren.”
“There are transfers labeled M transfer.”
“What does that mean?”
“I don’t know.”
“From what account?”
“Some from the household account.”
“Some?”
“One from an account ending in 4412.”
My chest tightened.
That was not our household account.
That was my personal high-yield savings account.
Daniel had never been an authorized user.
I stood so quickly my chair rolled backward into the wall.
“Date.”
Lauren read it.
I knew the date.
It was six months earlier.
A weekday.
I had been in Boston for a conference.
“How much?”
“Twenty-two thousand.”
My voice disappeared.
Robert stood.
“What?”
I put the phone on speaker.
“Say it again.”
Lauren did.
“Twenty-two thousand dollars.”
Robert’s face changed.
“From her personal savings?”
“Yes.”
I looked at him.
“That account has two-factor authentication.”
“I know.”
“My phone.”
“Could anyone access it?”
“Daniel knew my passcode.”
The room went silent.
Lauren said, “There’s a note beside the transfer.”
“What note?”
She hesitated.
“M knows.”
I stopped breathing.
“What?”
“M knows.”
“That’s what it says.”
“Whose handwriting?”
Lauren answered immediately.
“Daniel’s.”
For several seconds, I could hear only Lauren breathing through the speaker.
Robert reached for the edge of my desk as if he needed to steady himself too.
“Take a picture of that page,” I said.
“I already did.”
“Send it.”
My phone chimed.
The image was crooked and dim, taken against what looked like a motel bedspread.
But the handwriting was clear enough.
M knows.
The M looked like the same slanted capital Daniel used when he signed holiday cards.
I stared at it until the letters stopped looking like language.
“Could Aaron have written that?”
Lauren answered immediately.
“No.”
“How can you be sure?”
“Because Aaron’s handwriting looks like a ransom note.”
Despite myself, a short laugh escaped.
It died quickly.
Robert zoomed in on the photo.
“This is not proof by itself.”
“I know.”
“Mariana.”
“I know.”
Lauren said, “There are more pages.”
“What kind?”
“Transfers from Mom.”
“Transfers from Daniel.”
“Credit-card advances.”
“Payments to lenders.”
“Some things I don’t understand.”
“Does the folder show where my twenty-two thousand went?”
Paper rustled on her end.
“Hold on.”
I heard her flipping pages.
Then she stopped.
“There’s an entry the next day.”
“To where?”
“A company.”
“What company?”
She read the name.
Robert typed it into his laptop.
A few seconds later, he turned the screen toward me.
It was a trading platform.
Not one I used.
Not one Daniel had ever mentioned.
“Account holder?”
I asked.
“The folder doesn’t say.”
“Amount?”
“Twenty-one thousand five hundred.”
My hand tightened around the phone.
“Daniel’s brokerage account.”
Robert spoke quietly.
“Maybe.”
I looked at him.
He held my gaze.
“Maybe.”
Lauren said, “It’s his.”
“How do you know?”
“Because that was the platform we used when I helped him set everything up.”
“Why would the amount be five hundred less?”
“Fees?”
Robert shook his head.
“Not likely at that size.”
I stared at the transaction date.
“What happened to the other five hundred?”
“I don’t know,” Lauren said.
I nearly snapped at her.
Then I stopped.
For once, she truly might not.
“Send every page that mentions me.”
“And don’t alter anything.”
“I’m not stupid.”
“No, you’re not.”
There was enough edge in my voice that she heard the rest.
Lauren went quiet.
“I didn’t steal from your savings.”
“I didn’t say you did.”
“You’re thinking it.”
“I’m thinking a lot of things.”
She took a slow breath.
“For whatever it’s worth, I didn’t know Daniel took that money from you.”
“Then why does his note say I knew?”
“I assumed you did.”
May you like
“Why?”
“Because he said you had agreed to increase your investment.”
