Chapter 3 - THE FILE MY HUSBAND HID
That afternoon, Detective Morris returned with a sealed evidence bag.
Inside was an old metal key.
“Where did you find that?” I asked.
“In your husband's desk.”
I stared at it.
“It's not mine.”
“We know.”
She placed a photograph beside it.
The photograph showed my father's old workshop.
My heart skipped.
“Why would David have this?”
“We're not sure.”
Then she showed me something else.
A bank statement dated six years earlier.
My father's name was on it.
There was a withdrawal for $250,000.
The recipient?
David Carter.
I felt as though the hospital room had tilted.
“That isn't possible.”
Detective Morris watched me carefully.
“Your father transferred this money to David three days before his death.”
“Why?”
“We don't know.”
I remembered David's behavior after my father's funeral.
He had been unusually calm.
Too calm.
He had told me not to ask questions.
He had said my father was in debt.
He had convinced me to sign documents I barely understood.
Suddenly, memories I had buried began returning.
The arguments.
The missing paperwork.
The way David had insisted on handling everything.
I looked at Detective Morris.
“Open the file.”
She nodded.
Inside was a copy of my father's insurance policy.
The beneficiary had been changed.
To David.
My hands went numb.
“He did this before my father died.”
“That's what it appears.”
“And now he's doing it to me.”
“Yes.”
The pattern was suddenly obvious.
David didn't simply want my money.
He had been doing this for years.
But there was something even worse.
The detective pulled out a second document.
It was a handwritten note.
My father's handwriting.
I recognized it immediately.
The note contained only one sentence.
If anything happens to me, do not trust David.
I covered my mouth.
My father had known.
He had known something was wrong.
And he had tried to warn me.
Six years ago, I hadn't understood.
Now I did.
May you like
David hadn't suddenly become a monster.
He had been hiding it all along.
