Chapter 5
I bought my house six years before I married Denise.
Angela and I had picked it together.
It wasn't enormous.
Three bedrooms.
A small backyard.
A maple tree near the driveway.
But it was ours.
Angela painted Lily's nursery pale yellow before our daughter was born.
Even after she died, I couldn't bring myself to change it.
Now someone had apparently tried to use that home as collateral for a loan.
I stared at Karen's message.
"How much money were they trying to borrow?"
"Seventy-five thousand dollars," she answered.
My stomach dropped.
"That's impossible."
"The application was not completed. We need to obtain the lender's records."
"Was my name on it?"
"Yes."
I stood and started pacing.
"I never applied for a loan."
"Then we'll dispute it."
"Could Denise really have done this?"
Karen paused.
"I can't tell you that yet. But the application deserves investigation."
I looked through the window at my mother's backyard.
Lily was chasing bubbles while Grandma laughed.
Seventy-five thousand dollars.
That was more than I earned in an entire year after taxes.
Had Denise been planning to leave us in debt?
Or was something else happening?
Karen arranged for me to meet with a financial fraud investigator named Daniel Price.
He wasn't a police officer.
He was a licensed forensic accountant who specialized in tracing suspicious transactions.
I brought him every statement I had.
He studied the records for nearly an hour.
Then he looked up.
"Mr. Bennett, I want to be careful about what we conclude."
I nodded.
"But?"
"But this pattern is concerning."
He showed me the transfers.
Money left Lily's account in different amounts.
Most deposits landed in Walker Family Services.
Shortly afterward, funds moved to two other accounts.
One belonged to Tasha Walker.
Denise's sister.
The other appeared connected to a property management company.
"Do you recognize either account?" Daniel asked.
"No."
He leaned back.
"The company name may be legitimate. We need more information before assuming wrongdoing."
"Can you find out?"
"I can review public records and help your attorney request the relevant documents."
I nodded.
Then Daniel pointed to another transaction.
"This one interests me."
It was a payment of $1,200.
The description read:
APPLICATION PROCESSING.
"Processing for what?"
"We don't know."
But I had a terrible feeling.
I remembered Denise insisting that I needed to update our wills.
She'd mentioned it several times after the wedding.
I'd told her we could discuss estate planning with an attorney.
She became angry whenever I delayed.
At the time, I assumed she wanted financial security.
Now I wondered what security meant to her.
That evening, I drove to my house with Karen's recommended locksmith.
Denise had agreed in writing to be elsewhere while I collected Lily's essential belongings, and Karen had advised me on how to avoid an unlawful lockout or confrontation.
I wasn't there to punish Denise.
I was there to retrieve my daughter's schoolbooks, clothing, medicine, and Angela's keepsakes.
A neutral family friend, my coworker James, accompanied me.
The house was quiet.
Too quiet.
I walked into Lily's bedroom.
Her stuffed animals were lined up neatly on her bed.
Her favorite purple blanket lay folded over the pillow.
But something was missing.
The framed photograph of Angela holding newborn Lily.
I searched the dresser.
Nothing.
I checked the closet.
Still nothing.
Then I noticed an empty space on the top shelf.
Angela's memory box was gone.
Inside had been photographs, letters, and the tiny hospital bracelet Lily wore on the day she was born.
My chest tightened.
I called Denise.
She answered on the third ring.
"What?"
"Where are Angela's things?"
Silence.
Then she sighed.
"Seriously, Marcus?"
"The box from Lily's closet."
"I cleaned out some old junk."
My grip tightened around the phone.
"That wasn't junk."
"Your daughter doesn't need to live in the past."
"Where is it?"
"I donated some things."
For a moment, the room tilted.
"You donated my late wife's belongings?"
Denise snapped.
"You expect me to live in a house filled with another woman's memories?"
I closed my eyes.
"Tell me where you took them."
"I don't remember."
"Denise."
"Maybe if you treated me like your actual wife, I wouldn't feel so unwanted."
I ended the call before I said something I'd regret.
James stood in the doorway.
"You okay?"
"No."
He looked at the empty shelf.
"Want me to help search?"
I nodded.
We checked the closets, attic, and garage.
Nothing.
Then James called from the laundry room.
"Marcus, come here."
Behind the washing machine sat a cardboard box.
The flaps were partly open.
Inside were several framed photographs.
Angela smiling at the beach.
Angela holding Lily at her first birthday party.
Angela and me on our wedding day.
My knees almost gave out.
I lifted the photographs carefully.
Beneath them was the memory box.
Its lid was cracked.
But the contents were still there.
I opened it.
The hospital bracelet.
The letters.
A lock of Lily's baby hair.
Everything.
I sat on the laundry room floor and cried again.
James quietly stepped away.
When I finally stood, I noticed another box pushed against the wall.
It contained paperwork.
Utility statements.
Old envelopes.
Receipts.
And a folder labeled PROPERTY.
I didn't rummage through Denise's private documents.
But one sheet lay faceup on top.
My address was printed across it.
Below that was a signature.
My name.
Marcus Bennett.
Except I hadn't signed it.
I photographed the visible document without altering it, then called Karen.
She told me not to remove anything that wasn't clearly mine and to let her handle requests for additional evidence.
I left the house with Lily's belongings and Angela's memory box.
When I returned to Mom's house, Lily ran toward me.
"Did you get Mr. Fluffy?"
I held up her stuffed rabbit.
She squealed.
Then she saw the wooden memory box under my arm.
Her entire face changed.
"Mommy's box!"
She hugged it against her chest.
"I thought it was gone forever."
I knelt beside her.
"So did I, baby."
She opened the lid and lifted Angela's photograph.
Then she whispered, "Denise said Mommy didn't matter anymore."
I felt my heart split open.
I put my arms around her.
"Your mommy will always matter."
Lily cried into my shoulder.
I held her until she calmed down.
Later that night, Karen called.
She had received a preliminary copy of the attempted loan application.
"Marcus, the signature appears to match the one you photographed."
I stood.
"You're saying Denise forged my name?"
"I'm saying the lender has a document bearing your name that you say you didn't sign. We need formal verification."
I looked toward Lily's bedroom.
Karen continued.
"The application also names a second person as the recipient of the loan proceeds."
"Who?"
"Tasha Walker."
I gripped the edge of the table.
Then Karen added one final detail.
"The stated purpose of the loan was to purchase an investment property."
I stared into the darkness.
May you like
Denise wasn't just taking money.
Someone had been trying to use my house to build a future that didn't include us.
