Chapter 4
Tasha's face changed the moment she realized I had heard her.
She stood in the hallway holding her phone against her chest.
I stepped closer.
"What car?"
She looked toward Malik.
Then back at me.
"Nothing."
I folded my arms.
"Tasha, I heard you."
She rolled her eyes.
"It's between me and my mother."
I took a breath.
"Was Malik's money used to buy a car?"
She didn't answer.
That silence frightened me more than an argument would have.
"Tasha."
She snapped, "Mom said she'd handle everything!"
I stared at her.
"Handle what?"
Her eyes filled with sudden anger.
"I didn't ask to be dragged into your family drama!"
Malik flinched.
I stepped between them.
"This became your concern when money from his account started reaching yours."
She looked away.
"Mom told me it was family money."
"What does that mean?"
She shrugged.
"She said you wanted to help me get back on my feet."
I stared at her.
"I never said that."
Her confidence faltered.
"Well, that's what she told me."
I looked at Malik.
He was standing silently near the kitchen entrance.
I could see him fighting tears.
Then I turned back toward Tasha.
"Where is the car?"
She hesitated.
"At my friend's apartment."
"What kind of car?"
"A Mercedes."
The word hung between us.
I stared at her.
"A Mercedes?"
She looked offended.
"It's used."
I didn't care whether it was new or used.
I cared that my son had been working himself sick while money disappeared from his account.
"How was it paid for?"
Tasha swallowed.
"Mom made the down payment."
"How much?"
"About eight thousand dollars."
I felt my stomach tighten.
Eight thousand dollars.
Malik's loan had been twelve thousand.
Jane had transferred almost the entire amount to herself.
I looked at Tasha.
"When did you get the car?"
"Five months ago."
I checked the dates mentally.
The timing fit.
Almost perfectly.
I turned toward Malik.
His face had gone pale.
"Dad," he whispered, "that's when Jane told me your business needed the money."
I closed my eyes.
For several seconds, I couldn't speak.
The money Malik borrowed to save my imaginary financial crisis had apparently helped purchase Tasha a luxury vehicle.
I looked at her again.
"Did you know Malik took out that loan?"
She shook her head.
"No."
"Did Jane ever mention where the down payment came from?"
"She said it was her savings."
I studied her expression.
I couldn't tell how much she knew.
But I wasn't going to accuse her of something without evidence.
I had already seen how destructive false accusations could be.
I asked Tasha to provide the purchase documents.
She refused at first.
Then she called Jane.
I heard my wife's voice through the phone.
"Dennis has no right to demand anything from you."
I stepped closer.
"Jane, put the call on speaker."
Tasha hesitated.
Then she did.
Jane's voice filled the hallway.
"What do you want now?"
"Did you use Malik's loan money to buy Tasha's car?"
Silence.
Then she laughed.
"That's ridiculous."
"Then explain where the down payment came from."
"My savings."
"Which account?"
"None of your business."
I took a breath.
"Jane, the bank records show eleven thousand eight hundred dollars transferred from Malik's account into yours."
Her voice sharpened.
"You've been going through my finances?"
"I'm reviewing what happened to my son's money."
She sighed dramatically.
"Dennis, you're making a mountain out of nothing."
I looked toward Malik.
His face was wet with tears.
"Nothing?"
My voice cracked.
"You made my son believe I was about to lose my business."
Jane didn't answer.
"You made him borrow twelve thousand dollars."
Still nothing.
"And you let him carry the debt while your daughter drove around in a Mercedes."
Tasha stared at her phone.
"Mom?"
Jane snapped, "Stay out of this."
Tasha looked stunned.
"Mom, you told me the money was yours."
"It was."
I shook my head.
"Then prove it."
Jane's voice became cold.
"You want proof? Fine. You'll get proof."
She ended the call.
Tasha lowered her phone.
For the first time, she looked frightened.
"I didn't know," she whispered.
I studied her.
"Then help us find out."
She hesitated.
Then nodded.
"I'll get the paperwork."
Later that afternoon, Raymond joined us at my dining table.
Tasha arrived with copies of the dealership documents.
She placed them in front of him.
Raymond reviewed each page.
The vehicle had been financed in Tasha's name.
Jane had provided the down payment.
The payment receipt showed a transfer from Jane's account.
But the date was important.
It occurred only four days after Jane received Malik's loan proceeds.
Raymond circled it.
"This doesn't prove everything by itself," he explained. "But the timing is significant."
I nodded.
Tasha looked sick.
"Does this mean my car was bought with stolen money?"
Raymond answered carefully.
"It means investigators will need to determine the source and whether anyone committed fraud."
She covered her face.
"Oh, my God."
Malik sat quietly beside me.
I reached for his hand.
Then Raymond turned another page.
His expression changed.
"Dennis, did you know Jane was listed as an authorized user on Malik's credit card?"
I stared at him.
"What credit card?"
Malik looked confused.
"I don't have one."
Raymond turned the document toward us.
The dealership had included a credit reference report.
It showed an active revolving account associated with Malik's information.
The balance was almost six thousand dollars.
Malik stared at the page.
"That's not mine."
I looked at Raymond.
"Could it be another mistake?"
"Possibly. We need the complete report."
Malik began breathing faster.
"Dad, I don't understand."
I squeezed his hand.
"We're going to find out."
Raymond pointed toward the account opening date.
It had been opened ten months earlier.
Two months before Jane began charging Malik rent.
My chest tightened.
The pattern was becoming clearer.
Jane hadn't suddenly decided to take money from my son.
She appeared to have been using his financial identity long before he knew anything was wrong.
Tasha stood.
"I need some air."
I watched her walk toward the patio.
For the first time, I saw uncertainty replacing her usual arrogance.
I hoped it meant she was beginning to understand the damage.
Then Malik's phone vibrated.
He looked at the screen.
His expression became confused.
"What's wrong?" I asked.
He turned the phone toward me.
A message had arrived from an unfamiliar number.
It contained a photograph of a document.
A document bearing Malik's name.
But the signature at the bottom didn't look like his.
Below the photograph were five words.
"Ask Jane about your inheritance."
I stared at the screen.
Inheritance?
Malik had inherited a small sum from his mother.
I had placed it in a protected account when he was a child.
He was supposed to receive it when he turned twenty-one.
I looked at my son.
"Who sent this?"
He shook his head.
"I don't know."
I enlarged the photograph.
At the top was the name of the financial institution holding his inheritance.
And beneath it was a request for an early distribution.
I felt the blood drain from my face.
Someone had tried to access the money his mother left him.
I looked at Raymond.
His expression was grim.
Then Malik whispered, "Dad, how much money did Mom leave me?"
I swallowed.
"Almost sixty thousand dollars."
He stared at me.
"What?"
I nodded slowly.
His eyes widened.
"And Jane tried to take that too?"
May you like
I couldn't answer yet.
But as I examined the forged-looking signature, I realized the money Jane had already taken might be only a small part of the damage.
