Chapter 6
Evan made it twenty feet.
Andre stuck out one leg.
Evan hit the grass hard.
Two officers were on him before he could stand.
I watched my former best friend get handcuffed in my front yard.
He screamed the entire time.
"This is crazy!"
Then he looked at Rachel.
"Tell them!"
Rachel stood beside the SUV shaking.
"Tell them you knew!"
Her face went white.
I looked at her.
Evan kept yelling.
"She knew about the bike!"
Rachel whispered,
"No."
"You're lying!"
Detective Brooks stepped between them.
"Stop talking."
Evan ignored her.
"It was her idea to increase the policy!"
Rachel screamed,
"Because you said we needed collateral!"
Mom came outside.
I moved in front of her.
"You don't need to hear this."
She gripped my arm.
"I've heard enough lies."
Evan laughed from the ground.
"Ask Rachel about the beneficiary."
I looked toward her.
She stopped breathing.
"What beneficiary?"
Detective Brooks told Evan again to stop speaking.
He smiled at Rachel.
"Go ahead."
"Tell your husband."
Rachel started crying.
I was tired of tears.
I was tired of secrets.
"Who gets the insurance money?"
Rachel looked down.
"I do."
"Only you?"
Silence.
"Rachel."
"No."
My stomach dropped.
"Who else?"
She whispered,
"Evan."
Even Detective Brooks looked surprised.
Charles stepped out of the house.
"What?"
Rachel wouldn't look at anyone.
"We changed the private policy."
"You put your lover on my life insurance?"
She cried.
"It wasn't like that."
I laughed.
I couldn't help it.
The situation had become so monstrous that laughter was the only thing left.
"What exactly was it like?"
Rachel didn't answer.
Detective Brooks approached her.
"Mrs. Carter, I strongly advise you to stop speaking until you have counsel."
Rachel finally nodded.
Evan was placed inside a patrol car.
Rachel wasn't arrested that night.
Not yet.
But detectives took her phone.
Her laptop.
Her vehicle.
Several boxes from the house.
And my motorcycle.
I watched the tow truck carry it away.
The machine had been my father's.
He'd bought it when I graduated high school.
After he died, I rebuilt it.
Rachel knew what it meant to me.
Apparently Evan did too.
Andre stood beside me.
"I'm sorry."
I looked at him.
"For what?"
"I should've told you sooner."
"You said that already."
"I mean about everything."
I stared at him.
"There is more?"
His silence answered.
I almost walked away.
Then he said,
"Rachel tried to get me involved."
I turned.
"In what?"
"The company."
"When?"
"Four months ago."
"Why?"
"She needed someone to sign delivery records."
I stared at him.
"And?"
"I refused."
"Then what?"
"She offered me ten grand."
My jaw tightened.
"Did you take it?"
Andre looked offended.
"No."
I immediately regretted asking.
"Sorry."
"I get it."
He stared at the street.
"After I refused, she started acting strange whenever I came around."
"Strange how?"
"Watching me."
"Checking what I knew."
"Then Mom called."
He told me about the collection letter.
How Mom had opened it accidentally because my name was printed beside our address.
How she showed Andre.
How they searched the office while Rachel was supposedly at work.
They found the first folder behind a cabinet.
Then another.
Then the laptops.
"So why was Charles here?"
I asked.
Andre sighed.
"Mom called him."
I looked toward her.
She nodded.
"I thought her father could make her stop."
I almost smiled at the innocence of that idea.
"Did he?"
"No."
Charles approached.
"I confronted her three days ago."
"And?"
"She admitted the fraud."
"All of it?"
"No."
He looked toward the patrol car holding Evan.
"I didn't know about the motorcycle."
That night I barely slept.
Every time I closed my eyes, I remembered Rachel's voice.
Two million total.
Marcus won't be our problem much longer.
At six the next morning, Detective Brooks called.
"We found something."
I sat upright.
"What?"
"Can you come to the station?"
An hour later, Andre drove me.
Brooks met us in a conference room.
A federal investigator was there.
Special Agent Michael Grant.
He shook my hand.
"Sergeant Carter."
"Why is federal law enforcement involved?"
"Because some of the business applications involved federal contracting programs."
Of course.
Rachel hadn't just ruined our marriage.
She had managed to attract half the government.
Grant opened a file.
"We've reviewed preliminary records."
He pointed toward several forms.
"Your identity was used to certify this company as majority veteran-owned."
"I never signed those."
"We believe you."
That surprised me.
"Already?"
"Your deployment records place you overseas when several documents were supposedly notarized in person."
Andre looked at me.
For the first time, something felt like good news.
Grant continued.
"There's more."
Of course there was.
"The company received payments for equipment that may never have existed."
"How much?"
"Approximately three hundred twenty thousand dollars so far."
I rubbed my face.
"And I'm listed as responsible?"
"On paper, yes."
My heart sank.
"But the evidence currently suggests identity theft."
I exhaled.
Grant leaned forward.
"We'll need your complete cooperation."
"You have it."
"Good."
Then Detective Brooks placed Rachel's phone on the table inside an evidence bag.
"We recovered deleted messages."
My stomach tightened.
"Between Rachel and Evan?"
"Yes."
She printed several.
I read them.
Most were about money.
Debts.
Arguments.
Then I reached a message from six weeks earlier.
EVAN: If Marcus comes home and discovers everything, we're finished.
RACHEL: Then we make sure he doesn't discover it.
Another.
EVAN: The bike is easiest.
RACHEL: Don't talk about that here.
My hands started shaking.
Then one more.
RACHEL: I said scare him, not hurt him.
I stared at the sentence.
Detective Brooks said,
"That's important."
"Why?"
"Because Rachel may argue she never intended physical harm."
I laughed bitterly.
"Someone cut my brake line."
"Yes."
"But proving who did it and why matters."
Grant slid another document toward me.
"We also found a hotel reservation."
I looked at it.
The date was next Friday.
The deadline Curtis had given them.
Two guests.
Rachel Carter.
Evan Brooks.
Destination: Miami.
One-way flights had been purchased for the following morning.
"So they planned to run."
"Possibly."
I stared at the papers.
Then I noticed another reservation.
A third passenger.
I read the name twice.
My heart stopped.
"Why is my mother's name here?"
Neither investigator answered immediately.
I looked up.
"Why was Rachel buying my mother a ticket?"
Detective Brooks' expression tightened.
"We were hoping you could tell us."
I couldn't.
Because according to the reservation, Denise Carter was supposed to be on that flight too.
And suddenly I had a terrifying question.
May you like
Was my mother another victim?
Or had she been hiding something from me too?
