Chapter 3
I barely slept.
Every hallway sound woke me.
Every rolling cart made my heart race.
At three in the morning, I asked Marcus to check the lock even though a police officer was sitting outside.
He didn't tell me I was being irrational.
He checked.
Then he checked again.
By sunrise, Detective Brooks had the full version of Kayla's video.
She watched it in front of us.
I couldn't.
I listened.
My mother's voice was faint but recognizable.
“You put too much.”
Dad answered.
“No, I didn't.”
Then Mom.
“Then she'll feel sick. That's the point.”
Afterward came Rachel's voice.
“What if it hurts the baby?”
Mom's response was clearer.
“Then maybe Claire will finally understand what happens when she betrays us.”
I covered my mouth.
Hearing it was different from being told.
Marcus stared at the tablet like he wanted to crush it.
Brooks paused the recording.
“This gives us probable cause for warrants.”
“Arrest them.”
My voice surprised even me.
Yesterday, part of me had still been waiting for some explanation.
Today that part was dead.
Brooks nodded.
“We're moving.”
Police searched my parents' house that morning.
They also searched Dad's car and Mom's phone.
Rachel remained in custody on assault charges.
Her attorney refused another interview.
I spent the morning undergoing more tests.
The baby looked healthy.
Dr. Patel pointed to the ultrasound screen.
“There.”
A tiny hand moved.
I cried instantly.
Marcus kissed my temple.
“She has your attitude.”
Normally I would have laughed.
I couldn't.
I kept thinking about Mom.
What kind of grandmother looked at an unborn child and saw money?
At noon, David arrived.
My attorney had always seemed calm.
Not today.
He carried a black briefcase and locked the hospital door after entering.
“The trust is worse than we thought.”
“How can it get worse?”
He sat down.
“Your grandfather suspected someone was stealing from it before he died.”
I stared at him.
“Who?”
“He never named anyone in writing.”
“Why didn't you tell me?”
“Because I didn't know until yesterday.”
David opened his briefcase.
“Your grandfather left sealed instructions with another law firm. Those instructions were triggered if anyone attempted to alter your beneficiary status.”
Marcus leaned forward.
“And someone did.”
“Yes.”
David placed a letter in front of me.
My grandfather's handwriting covered the page.
Claire,
If you're reading this, someone has become greedy enough to believe family gives them ownership over you.
My vision blurred.
Grandpa had died five years earlier.
He had been the only person in my family who encouraged me to leave home, go to college, and make my own decisions.
Mom called him controlling.
Now I understood why.
David continued.
“The trust doesn't simply become irrevocable when your daughter is born.”
“What else?”
“It triggers an audit of every distribution made under your parents' administrative authority during the previous seven years.”
Marcus whistled softly.
“How much money are we talking about?”
“Potentially millions.”
My heart dropped.
“So they weren't only afraid of losing control.”
“No.”
David's expression turned grim.
“They may be afraid of being caught.”
Detective Brooks called fifteen minutes later.
The search had uncovered medication in my parents' kitchen.
Same drug class found in my blood.
The bottle had no prescription label.
Mom and Dad were gone.
“What do you mean gone?”
Brooks spoke through speakerphone.
“They weren't home when officers arrived.”
“They knew?”
“Possibly.”
Marcus looked toward the door.
“Where would they go?”
I immediately thought of one place.
“My father's cabin.”
Brooks asked for the address.
I gave it to her.
Then another memory surfaced.
“The folder.”
“What about it?”
“Mom took the original papers from the cookout. If they're destroying documents…”
“We'll notify the county near the cabin.”
An hour later, officers found Dad's truck abandoned twenty miles from town.
The cabin was empty.
I felt sick.
My parents had become fugitives.
The words sounded ridiculous inside my head.
These were the people who hosted Thanksgiving.
Dad complained about property taxes.
Mom collected ceramic angels.
Now police were searching for them.
At four that afternoon, Rachel's attorney contacted Detective Brooks.
Rachel wanted to talk.
But only if I was present.
Marcus immediately said no.
“So did I.”
Brooks agreed.
“She's under investigation. You should not be in the same room.”
Rachel sent another message through her attorney.
Tell Claire Mom is going to blame everything on me.
I read it three times.
Then another came.
Tell her I know where the medicine came from.
Marcus stared at me.
“She wants a deal.”
“Maybe.”
“She kicked you.”
“I know.”
I would never forget.
But if Rachel knew something that could protect my daughter, I wanted the truth.
Brooks arranged for me to listen remotely from the hospital while Rachel was interviewed at the station.
Her face appeared on a secure video screen.
She looked awful.
No makeup.
Swollen eyes.
Orange jail uniform.
For the first time since the cookout, she didn't look angry.
She looked terrified.
Detective Brooks sat across from her.
“You asked to speak.”
Rachel nodded.
“My mom gave me those documents.”
“When?”
“Four months ago.”
“The forged waiver?”
Rachel started crying.
“She said Claire had already agreed. She told me I was just witnessing her signature.”
“Did you watch Claire sign?”
“No.”
“Then why did you sign as a witness?”
“Because Mom said it was paperwork.”
Brooks remained expressionless.
“Your sister was hospitalized because you kicked her.”
Rachel broke.
“I know.”
“Why?”
Rachel covered her face.
“She said she was calling the police on Mom and Dad.”
That was new.
I hadn't said that.
“I never threatened police,” I whispered.
Marcus squeezed my hand.
Brooks asked the same question.
“Claire says she never said that.”
Rachel looked confused.
“Mom told me she did.”
There it was.
Manipulation layered over manipulation.
“She told me Claire was trying to send Dad to prison,” Rachel continued. “She said Claire wanted the whole trust and was going to leave us with nothing.”
“So you kicked her.”
Rachel sobbed.
“I wanted to scare her.”
“You kicked a pregnant woman in the abdomen.”
“I know!”
She bent forward.
“I hate myself.”
Brooks let the silence stretch.
Then she asked, “Where did the medication come from?”
Rachel looked directly toward the camera.
For one strange second, it felt like she was looking at me.
“Dad's accountant.”
Marcus frowned.
David went rigid.
“What accountant?” Brooks asked.
“Thomas Vale.”
David's face changed completely.
I noticed.
“What?”
He looked at me.
“Thomas Vale handled portions of your grandfather's trust accounting.”
On-screen, Rachel continued.
“I heard Dad talking to him two weeks ago.”
“About what?”
Rachel swallowed.
“About Claire's baby.”
My entire body went numb.
“What did they say?”
Brooks asked.
Rachel's voice became almost inaudible.
“Mr. Vale said if the baby was born alive, the audit couldn't be stopped.”
Marcus stood.
Rachel wiped her face.
“Dad asked if there was any way to delay the birth.”
Brooks leaned closer.
“And?”
Rachel looked sick.
“Vale said delaying wasn't the problem.”
“What was?”
Rachel closed her eyes.
“He said making sure there was no living child was the only thing that mattered.”
The room around me went silent.
David grabbed his phone.
“Thomas Vale has access to financial records, beneficiary information, medical insurance records—”
Marcus turned to him.
“Medical?”
“He handles reimbursements for the trust.”
Detective Brooks asked Rachel one final question.
“Where is Thomas Vale now?”
Rachel shook her head.
“I don't know.”
David was already searching.
Then he stopped.
His face went pale.
“What?”
I asked.
He looked at me.
May you like
“Thomas Vale's office is across the street from this hospital.”
Before anyone could speak, the lights in my room went out.
