Chapter 4 - The Recording
Margaret recovered quickly.
Too quickly.
"What old house?" she asked.
I almost admired the performance.
Almost.
"The house I grew up in."
"Oh."
She waved one hand dismissively.
"That place?"
"Yes. That place."
She looked toward Gregory Marsh, the lawyer she had invited.
He didn't seem comfortable.
Margaret sat down.
"It was falling apart."
"So you sold it?"
"Eventually."
"Who owned it?"
"Your father left everything to me."
Across the room, Gwen didn't move.
Paige crossed her arms.
I leaned back in the chair.
"Did he?"
Margaret's expression sharpened.
"Why are you asking me like that?"
"I'm curious."
"After four years away, you come home questioning your own mother?"
She was trying to make the issue emotional.
Classic deflection.
I had seen people do it during investigations overseas.
Answer the feeling instead of the question.
I picked up the power-of-attorney document.
"Gregory, did you prepare this?"
The lawyer nodded.
"At Mrs. Hale's request, yes."
"Did she tell you I asked for it?"
His eyes moved toward Margaret.
"No. She said you would likely want assistance administering deployment-related compensation."
"Did she tell you I was already home?"
"No."
Interesting.
Margaret interrupted.
"This is ridiculous."
I ignored her.
"Gregory, have you ever represented my father?"
"No."
"Did you review his estate documents?"
"No."
"Did my mother tell you the house she sold may have been held in trust?"
His face changed.
"What?"
Margaret stood.
"Enough."
I looked at her.
"You said Dad left everything to you."
"He did."
"I spoke to Robert Klein."
It was like someone had drained the blood from her face.
Paige whispered, "Who?"
Margaret knew.
Of course she knew.
Her voice became low.
"That man hated me."
"No. He prepared Dad's will."
"There was no valid will."
"That's not what his records say."
Gregory slowly began gathering his papers.
Margaret turned on him.
"Where are you going?"
"I was retained to assist with a financial authorization. I wasn't informed there was a disputed trust or potentially contested property transfer."
"Sit down."
"No."
That one word seemed to offend her more than anything I had said.
He looked at me.
"Mr. Hale, I advise you not to sign this document."
"Wasn't planning to."
He left.
Margaret waited until the front door closed.
Then she exploded.
"You humiliated me!"
I stayed seated.
"No. I asked questions."
"You walk into this house after four years and act like some investigator?"
"I am asking what happened to my property."
"Your property?"
Her voice rose.
"Do you know who stayed here while you were gone? Do you know who managed everything? Paid bills? Dealt with contractors?"
"With my money."
"Our money."
There it was.
I glanced at Paige.
She was watching Margaret carefully.
"Our money?" I repeated.
Margaret pointed toward Gwen.
"You think she helped you? Look at her! She couldn't manage a grocery list."
Gwen flinched.
I stood.
"Don't speak about my wife like that."
"You didn't mind yesterday."
"I minded."
Margaret stopped.
"Then why—"
"Because I wanted to hear how far you'd go."
Paige's expression changed.
My mother's eyes narrowed.
I took the recorder from my jacket and placed it on the table.
Silence.
Margaret stared at it.
"What is that?"
"You know."
"You recorded us?"
"Everything."
Paige stepped backward.
Margaret lunged toward the device.
I grabbed it first.
"Don't."
Her face transformed.
The polished mother disappeared.
"Delete it."
"No."
"You have no right!"
"Actually, I've already checked."
The truth was state recording laws varied, and I had confirmed our state's rule with counsel before using it.
Margaret looked at Gwen.
"This is her doing."
I almost laughed.
"Of course."
"She turned you against your family."
"My wife is my family."
"Blood is family!"
"So was my child."
Everything stopped.
Gwen covered her mouth.
Paige looked at Margaret.
My mother said nothing.
I stepped closer.
"You knew Gwen was pregnant."
Margaret's chin lifted.
"She told you that?"
"Did you know?"
"She was always claiming something was wrong."
"Did you know?"
"She said she was pregnant."
"That's a yes."
Paige looked away.
I saw it.
Guilt.
"Did you know she was bleeding?"
Margaret's voice hardened.
"I am not responsible for a miscarriage."
"That's not what I asked."
"Miscarriages happen."
Gwen began crying.
I moved between them.
"Did she ask you for help?"
Margaret looked at me.
"She was hysterical."
"Did she ask you to take her to the hospital?"
"She could walk."
The words came out before she realized what she had said.
Paige shut her eyes.
My heart stopped.
"So you knew."
Margaret stared at me.
Then at the recorder.
She had trapped herself.
I felt no triumph.
Only disgust.
"You let my pregnant wife walk three miles while bleeding."
"Don't dramatize it."
"She collapsed."
"She survived."
Gwen made a sound behind me.
I turned.
Her knees buckled.
I caught her before she hit the floor.
"Enough," I said.
Margaret kept talking.
"You don't understand what she was doing to this family!"
I lifted Gwen into my arms.
She felt frighteningly light.
"What was she doing?"
"Taking everything."
I looked around the mansion.
At Margaret's jewelry.
Paige's purse.
The imported furniture.
Then at my bald, sick wife in my arms.
"Yeah," I said quietly. "She looks like the one who took everything."
I carried Gwen toward the storage room.
Margaret followed.
"You can't just come home and threaten us!"
I turned.
"I haven't threatened anyone."
"You called a lawyer!"
"My lawyer."
"This is my house!"
"Maybe."
She stopped.
"What does that mean?"
I smiled without humor.
"It means tomorrow I'm finding out exactly how you paid for it."
I closed the storage-room door.
Gwen sat on the mattress.
Her face was pale.
"I don't want you destroying your relationship with your mother because of me."
I stared at her.
"Because of you?"
"You only have one mother."
"And I only had one unborn child."
She looked down.
I knelt.
"Listen carefully."
I took her hands.
"You didn't do this."
She began crying.
"You didn't steal Dad's estate."
She shook her head.
"You didn't forge bank documents."
Another shake.
"You didn't stop a bleeding woman from calling for help."
Tears fell onto our hands.
"And you didn't give yourself cancer."
Her face crumpled.
I pulled her against me.
For the first time since I came home, Gwen cried without trying to hide the sound.
I held her until her breathing slowed.
Then someone knocked.
Softly.
I opened the door.
Paige stood outside.
She looked different.
No attitude.
No laughter.
No expensive-phone confidence.
Just pale.
"Can I talk to you?"
"Tomorrow."
"It's important."
I started closing the door.
She whispered, "Mom lied to me too."
I stopped.
Gwen lifted her head.
Paige looked behind her.
Then she slipped inside.
"I thought Gwen was stealing from you."
I said nothing.
"Mom showed me bank statements."
"What statements?"
"They had cash withdrawals. Transfers. Gwen's name."
Gwen frowned.
"I've never—"
"I know."
Paige looked sick.
"I checked something after you left today."
She unlocked her phone.
"I found old emails in Mom's account."
My pulse changed.
"What emails?"
"Messages to you."
I took the phone.
The screen showed an email address almost identical to mine.
One letter different.
The fake account Gwen had written to.
Paige whispered, "Mom created it."
Gwen started shaking.
I scrolled.
There were hundreds of messages.
From Gwen.
To "me."
Ultrasound appointment.
I'm scared.
I miss you.
Please call when you can.
Your mom says you're busy.
The baby kicked today.
Then later:
I'm bleeding.
Please answer.
I can't reach anyone.
And replies.
From the fake account.
Stop bothering me.
Listen to Mom.
You're embarrassing yourself.
Deal with it.
My vision blurred.
Paige whispered, "There's something worse."
I looked up.
She opened another folder.
Draft messages.
Never sent.
One subject line read:
IF DANIEL COMES HOME EARLY.
The body contained instructions.
Not to Gwen.
To Paige.
If he shows up unexpectedly, tell him Gwen has become mentally unstable. Make sure all medication is hidden. Do not let him see the medical bills. If necessary, say she did the hair thing for attention.
I stopped reading.
Paige was crying now.
"I didn't know about all of it."
"How much did you know?"
"Enough."
I stared at her.
She deserved no easy forgiveness.
She knew she had mocked Gwen.
She had helped control her phone.
She had enjoyed the money.
But fear was different from innocence.
"What else is in the account?"
Paige swallowed.
"Something about the property."
"What?"
She opened one final email.
It had been sent eighteen months earlier to a man named Curtis Reed.
Margaret wrote:
The signature passed. Daniel won't be back for at least two more years. Once the house closes, move the money exactly as discussed.
My entire body went still.
"Who is Curtis Reed?"
Paige looked at me.
"Mom's boyfriend."
Gwen inhaled sharply.
I stared at the screen.
Paige continued.
"They've been together almost three years."
Three years.
While my mother spent my money.
While Gwen starved downstairs.
While my father's property disappeared.
There had been another man helping her.
May you like
And according to that email, he wasn't just her boyfriend.
He was part of the fraud.
