Chapter 7
Malik didn't say much on the drive to the police station.
He sat beside me with his hands folded tightly in his lap.
Every few minutes, he looked toward the window.
I wanted to say something comforting.
But I had promised myself I wouldn't make promises I couldn't keep.
So I simply told him, "Whatever we learn today, you're not facing it alone."
He nodded.
At the station, Detective Brooks led us into a small interview room.
Raymond was already waiting.
She placed a folder on the table.
"Before we begin, I want you both to understand that we're still investigating."
I nodded.
"Of course."
She looked at Malik.
"The insurance application lists you as the insured person."
He swallowed.
"Who applied?"
"Jane Carter."
My stomach tightened.
Jane had taken my surname when we married.
Hearing it attached to another suspicious document made me feel physically ill.
The detective continued.
"The proposed coverage amount was two hundred fifty thousand dollars."
Malik stared at her.
"Two hundred fifty thousand?"
She nodded.
"The application named Jane as beneficiary."
I closed my eyes.
Malik gripped the edge of his chair.
"Did she actually get it?"
"No. The insurer requested additional verification, and the policy was never issued."
I exhaled.
Thank God.
Detective Brooks placed another document in front of us.
"The application also included a claim that Jane had an insurable financial interest in your life."
Raymond leaned forward.
"Based on what?"
"An alleged personal debt."
I stared at the document.
"Debt?"
The detective nodded.
"According to the application, Malik owed Jane forty thousand dollars."
Malik shook his head violently.
"No!"
I placed my hand on his shoulder.
"I know."
He looked at the detective.
"I don't owe her anything!"
She spoke gently.
"We're not saying you do."
His eyes filled.
"She took my money!"
"I understand."
I looked at the paperwork.
There was a signature near the bottom.
It appeared to be Malik's.
But it was wrong.
The letters were too rounded.
The final stroke was too long.
I had watched my son sign his name hundreds of times.
"That's not his signature."
The detective nodded.
"We're having it examined."
Malik stared at the page.
"She really did all this?"
I couldn't answer.
He began crying quietly.
Then he whispered something that nearly broke me.
"I thought I finally had another mom."
I pulled him into my arms.
For several seconds, he cried against my shoulder.
I looked over his head at Detective Brooks.
She gave us time.
When Malik finally sat back, she continued.
"We've also identified communications between Jane and Brenda involving the trust account."
My heart pounded.
"Do you have enough to arrest them?"
"We have enough to pursue additional investigative steps. Charging decisions depend on the evidence and prosecutors."
I nodded.
Then she asked a question I hadn't expected.
"Has Jane ever attempted to isolate Malik from other family members?"
I looked toward him.
He hesitated.
"Yes."
"How?"
"She told me not to visit my grandmother."
My chest tightened.
"My mother?"
He nodded.
"She said Grandma thought I was lazy."
I stared at him.
That was another lie.
My mother adored Malik.
She called him every Sunday.
When he didn't answer, she usually called me.
Jane had often explained that he was busy studying or working.
I had believed her.
Malik continued.
"She also said Aunt Renee didn't like me."
I felt sick.
Renee was my younger sister.
She had helped raise Malik after his mother died.
"Son, neither of those things is true."
He looked at me.
"I know now."
Detective Brooks wrote something down.
Then she asked whether Jane had access to Malik's identification documents.
He nodded.
"She kept a folder with my Social Security card and birth certificate."
I stared at him.
"Why?"
"She said it was safer."
I closed my eyes.
Of course.
Jane had gathered everything she needed.
The documents.
The passwords.
The trust.
And the silence.
After the interview, Raymond walked us to the parking lot.
"We need to make sure every account is secured," he said.
I nodded.
"Already working on it."
"And Dennis?"
"Yes?"
"Malik should have support beyond legal and financial help."
I looked at my son.
He was staring at the pavement.
"You mean counseling?"
Raymond nodded.
"He's been under pressure for months. Maybe longer."
I swallowed.
"You're right."
That afternoon, I called my mother.
She answered immediately.
"Dennis!"
"Hi, Mom."
"Is Malik all right? I haven't heard from him."
My throat tightened.
"Mom, can you come over?"
Her voice changed.
"What's wrong?"
"It's important."
She arrived an hour later.
Malik stood in the living room when she walked through the door.
The moment she saw him, she hurried forward.
"My baby!"
She wrapped him in her arms.
Malik began crying.
My mother pulled back.
"What's wrong, sweetheart?"
He shook his head.
"I'm sorry I stopped calling."
She looked confused.
"Why would you apologize?"
He swallowed.
"Jane said you thought I was lazy."
My mother's expression changed.
Then her eyes filled with tears.
"Oh, Malik."
She held his face between her hands.
"I have never thought that."
He looked at her.
"Really?"
"Not for one second."
She hugged him again.
I turned away.
I couldn't bear the thought of how much love Jane had kept from him.
When Renee arrived, Malik cried again.
She sat beside him and listened without interruption.
Then she said, "You know what your mother always told me?"
He shook his head.
"That you had the biggest heart in the family."
Malik smiled through his tears.
"I don't remember that."
"She said it every time you shared your toys with another child."
My chest tightened.
For the first time in days, I heard my son laugh.
It was quiet.
But it was real.
That evening, Tasha came downstairs carrying two suitcases.
I looked up.
"Where are you going?"
She swallowed.
"I found a room to rent."
I stared at her.
"Tasha, you don't have to leave tonight."
She shook her head.
"I need to learn how to take care of myself."
I studied her.
"Are you sure?"
She nodded.
"I can't keep pretending Mom did nothing wrong."
She turned toward Malik.
"I sold some of my things."
His expression changed.
"What?"
She handed him an envelope.
Inside was fifteen hundred dollars.
"I know it doesn't fix anything."
Malik stared at the money.
"Tasha—"
"I wanted to give something back."
He looked toward me.
I nodded gently.
He didn't have to accept it.
But he could choose.
Finally, he took the envelope.
"Thank you."
Tasha began crying.
"I'm sorry I treated you like you didn't matter."
Malik looked at her.
"You hurt me."
"I know."
He took a breath.
"But I hope you really change."
She nodded.
"I will."
She left quietly.
I watched from the window as she loaded her car.
For the first time, I believed she might be ready to become responsible for herself.
Then my phone rang.
Detective Brooks.
I answered.
"Mr. Carter, we have an update."
My heart tightened.
"What happened?"
"We located Brenda Lewis."
"Where?"
"At the airport."
I stood.
"Was Jane with her?"
There was a pause.
Then the detective answered.
"Yes."
I gripped the phone.
"They were attempting to board an international flight."
I stared toward the doorway.
"But Malik's birthday isn't for weeks."
"Apparently, their plans changed."
I closed my eyes.
"Did you stop them?"
"Officers have detained them while investigators address the outstanding legal process."
I exhaled sharply.
Then the detective said something that made me freeze.
"Mr. Carter, Jane had several documents in her luggage."
"What documents?"
"Copies of Malik's identification and financial records."
My blood ran cold.
"And one more thing."
I held my breath.
"A handwritten list of people she planned to contact next."
I swallowed.
"Whose names?"
May you like
The detective paused.
Then said, "Your mother's name was on it."
