Chapter 6
I had never been so frightened in my life.
Not when I lost my father.
Not when Maya was born prematurely and spent her first week in intensive care.
Not even when I discovered Denise had stolen from Mom.
But hearing my wife's voice say Raymond might take my daughter out of the country made my blood run cold.
I sat in Valerie's living room gripping my phone.
Maya was upstairs doing homework.
Mom was resting in the guest bedroom.
Neither of them knew about the voicemail yet.
I intended to keep it that way until I understood what was happening.
Detective Harris listened carefully.
Then asked whether Maya's passport was definitely missing.
"Yes."
"Have you reported it?"
"Not yet."
He explained the steps for documenting the concern and contacting the appropriate passport authorities.
I followed his instructions.
Then I contacted Maya's school.
I updated the authorized pickup list and explained that we were dealing with a serious family safety issue.
The principal assured me that Maya would not be released to anyone outside the approved list.
I felt a small measure of relief.
But I knew paperwork alone wouldn't solve everything.
Camille helped me review the legal options for protective measures.
She also contacted the appropriate attorneys regarding the proposed residential agreement.
The document contained an address in North Carolina.
But the school named in the paperwork didn't match any legitimate educational institution we could verify.
That frightened me.
I stared at the address.
"What is this place?"
Camille shook her head.
"We're investigating."
"Denise called it a private school."
"That's what she told you."
I felt sick.
Then David Price called with another discovery.
The address belonged to a property leased by Raymond's business.
Not a school.
Not a residential treatment program.
A private rental house.
My hands went cold.
"Why would they send Maya there?"
David answered carefully.
"We don't know their intentions yet."
I stared at the documents.
But I remembered the recording.
The girl will be gone before the closing.
They hadn't been arranging Maya's education.
They had been planning to remove her from the household.
I looked toward the window.
For a moment, I couldn't breathe.
Camille leaned forward.
"Marcus, we have evidence of an attempted financial scheme. Let the authorities investigate the remaining allegations."
I nodded.
I wanted certainty.
But I wasn't going to create false conclusions out of fear.
That night, I sat beside Maya while she finished her homework.
She looked up.
"Dad?"
"Yes?"
"Are we going back home?"
I hesitated.
"Not right now."
She nodded.
"Okay."
I studied her face.
"Do you miss it?"
She looked down.
"Some parts."
"Like what?"
"My room."
I smiled sadly.
"Your room?"
She nodded.
"The pictures of Mom."
My chest tightened.
Maya's biological mother, Jasmine, died when she was nine.
She'd been a wonderful woman.
Kind.
Funny.
The sort of mother who turned ordinary Saturdays into adventures.
After she died, Maya and I spent almost two years learning how to live without her.
When I married Denise, I believed I was giving my daughter another caring adult.
Now I wondered whether I'd brought someone into our lives who resented every reminder of Jasmine.
I took Maya's hand.
"We'll get your pictures."
She looked up.
"Promise?"
"Promise."
Then she whispered, "Denise moved some of them."
My stomach tightened.
"What do you mean?"
"She took Mom's photo albums out of my closet."
I stared at her.
"When?"
"Last month."
"Where did she put them?"
Maya shook her head.
"She said I was too old to keep living in the past."
I felt anger rise.
But I kept my voice calm.
"Sweetheart, loving your mother isn't living in the past."
Her eyes filled.
"I know."
I pulled her close.
"We're going to make sure you have those memories."
She hugged me.
For the first time in days, I saw some of the tension leave her shoulders.
The next morning, Camille arranged for me to collect essential belongings from the house with a neutral witness.
I followed her guidance.
I wasn't there to fight Denise.
I was there to retrieve Maya's personal items and Mom's medical records.
My longtime friend James accompanied me.
When we arrived, Denise wasn't home.
She'd agreed in writing to stay elsewhere during the scheduled visit.
I entered Maya's bedroom first.
Her bed was made.
Her desk was empty.
And the photographs of Jasmine were gone.
I searched the closet.
Nothing.
James stood in the doorway.
"You okay?"
I shook my head.
"No."
He stepped inside.
"Let's look carefully."
We checked the storage closet.
The guest room.
Then the garage.
Finally, I found the albums inside a cardboard box marked DONATIONS.
My hands shook.
I opened the first album.
Jasmine holding newborn Maya.
Jasmine laughing at the beach.
Jasmine teaching our daughter to ride a bicycle.
Every photograph was there.
I closed the album and pressed it against my chest.
James looked away to give me privacy.
After a moment, I wiped my face.
Then I noticed another box beside it.
A stack of files.
Some belonged to Denise.
I didn't rummage through her private papers.
But one document lay faceup on top.
It carried my mother's name.
EVELYN BENNETT.
Beneath it was a property valuation report.
I photographed the visible page and contacted Camille.
She advised me not to remove documents that weren't clearly mine.
I agreed.
As I turned away, James called from the garage doorway.
"Marcus, come here."
I walked toward him.
He was pointing at a large empty space near the wall.
"Didn't you used to keep a safe here?"
My stomach tightened.
Yes.
A small black fireproof safe.
It contained family documents.
Insurance policies.
Property records.
And Maya's passport.
I stared at the empty space.
The safe was gone.
I immediately called Detective Harris.
He documented the missing property.
Then he asked whether anyone besides me knew the combination.
I closed my eyes.
"Denise."
Silence.
I looked toward the empty floor.
The missing passport.
The forged signatures.
The hidden financial documents.
Suddenly, I realized the safe might contain everything Raymond needed to continue the scheme.
Then Detective Harris said something unexpected.
"Marcus, we located Raymond's vehicle."
I froze.
"Where?"
"At a commercial storage facility."
My heart pounded.
He continued.
"We're pursuing the appropriate legal steps to examine property connected to the investigation."
May you like
I looked at the empty space where my safe had once stood.
And I knew we were getting closer to the truth.
