Chapter 2 - The Money Her Mother Left Behind
I stood in the driveway with two bank receipts in my hands.
One showed the money from Maya's stolen car.
The other showed thirty-eight thousand dollars transferred from an account I recognized immediately.
Maya's education savings.
The account her mother, Alicia, had helped create before cancer took her from us seven years earlier.
For a moment, I couldn't feel my fingers.
"Denise," I said quietly. "Explain this."
My wife swallowed.
"Marcus, there are circumstances you don't understand."
I looked at the receipt again.
Thirty-eight thousand dollars.
Transferred six days earlier.
Destination: Tasha Reynolds.
I could barely breathe.
"That money belongs to Maya."
Denise lowered her voice.
"Can we discuss this inside?"
"No."
Several houses stood close to ours. A neighbor across the street was unloading groceries, and Denise kept looking in that direction.
But I couldn't care less who heard.
"You took money from my daughter's account."
Tasha stepped forward.
"Mom, just tell him."
Denise shot her a warning look.
I caught it.
"Tell me what?"
Tasha stared at the ground.
"Nothing."
I turned to Denise.
"How did you access the account?"
She pressed her lips together.
"Marcus, when we married, you told me we were a family."
I stared at her.
"Answer the question."
"You said we would share responsibilities."
"Answer me."
Her voice rose.
"I was trying to help both our daughters!"
Maya stepped away from me.
"Both?"
Her voice was barely audible.
"You took my car. You took my college money. What did you give me?"
Denise looked uncomfortable.
"Maya, you're being selfish."
I moved in front of my daughter.
"Don't."
Denise blinked.
"What?"
"Don't call her selfish again."
She started to argue.
I raised one hand.
"Not another word until you tell me where the money went."
For several seconds, nobody spoke.
Then Tasha burst into tears.
"It's the condo, okay?"
I turned.
"What condo?"
She wiped her cheeks.
"The one Mom helped me get."
My stomach dropped.
Two months earlier, Tasha had announced she was moving out.
She claimed she'd saved enough money from her retail job to put a deposit on a condominium near downtown.
I had congratulated her.
I'd even helped carry boxes into her new place.
Denise had stood beside me, smiling proudly.
I remembered the marble kitchen counter.
The expensive furniture.
The enormous television.
And Tasha telling everyone she'd earned it herself.
"You're telling me the condo was purchased with Maya's money?"
Tasha cried harder.
"It was just the down payment."
I turned back to Denise.
"Just?"
"Marcus, listen."
"How much?"
She hesitated.
"Thirty-eight thousand."
"And the money from the car?"
Denise looked away.
I waited.
"Tasha needed furniture."
I actually staggered backward.
Maya's college savings had paid for the condo.
Her car had paid for the furniture.
I remembered how proud I'd felt walking through that apartment.
How I'd told Tasha she was setting a wonderful example for her younger sister.
All the while, they'd been taking from Maya.
I looked at Tasha.
"Did you know whose money it was?"
She stared at her mother.
That was answer enough.
"Maya," I said, turning toward my daughter, "go inside and get your phone."
She looked frightened.
"Why?"
"Because we're going to call the bank, and then we're going to call the police."
Denise grabbed my sleeve.
"Marcus!"
I pulled my arm away.
"You forged her signature to sell her car. You transferred money you had no right to touch. What exactly did you expect me to do?"
Her eyes widened.
"You would call the police on your own wife?"
I looked at Maya.
Her hoodie sleeves were pulled over her hands.
She had stopped crying.
Somehow, that frightened me more.
"I'd call the police on anyone who did this to my child."
Denise's expression changed.
The fear disappeared.
Something colder replaced it.
"You think you're so perfect," she whispered.
I frowned.
"What?"
"You think because you own the house and pay the bills, you're better than everyone."
"That has nothing to do with this."
"It has everything to do with this!"
She pointed at Maya.
"Everything revolves around her. Her birthday. Her car. Her college. Her precious memories of Alicia."
Maya recoiled.
"Don't talk about my mom."
Denise gave a bitter laugh.
"Oh, there it is. Saint Alicia. The woman nobody in this house is allowed to forget."
My vision blurred with anger.
"Stop."
But Denise kept going.
"I've been married to you for five years, Marcus. Five years! And I still feel like a guest in your dead wife's house."
Maya made a choking sound.
I stepped closer.
"That's enough."
Denise stared at me.
"Tell me I'm wrong."
I looked at the woman I'd married.
The woman who'd stood beside me at family dinners and school events.
The woman I'd trusted to help care for my daughter.
And suddenly I wondered how many times Maya had been hurt while I was looking somewhere else.
"You didn't steal because you felt unwanted," I said.
"You stole because you believed you deserved what belonged to Maya."
Denise opened her mouth.
I didn't let her interrupt.
"And you used my daughter's grief as an excuse."
Tasha backed toward the porch.
"Mom, I'm leaving."
"No," I said.
She froze.
"You can leave after you tell me everything you know."
"You can't keep me here."
"I'm not keeping you here. But the police will want to hear your explanation."
She began crying again.
Denise stepped toward her protectively.
"Don't threaten my daughter."
I stared at her.
The words were almost unbelievable.
She could defend Tasha.
She could protect Tasha.
But when Maya begged her not to sell the car, she had ignored every tear.
I turned toward Maya.
"Sweetheart, let's go inside."
She followed me through the front door.
Denise and Tasha remained outside.
In my office, I opened my laptop and signed into Maya's savings account.
A warning appeared.
My online access had been restricted.
I tried again.
Same message.
Then I checked the account details from an older statement.
Something caught my eye.
The authorized contact information had been changed four weeks earlier.
The email address now listed belonged to Denise.
My stomach tightened.
I called the bank's fraud department.
After several identity checks, the representative confirmed that a large withdrawal had been processed using documents supposedly signed by me.
I looked at the receipt.
"I never authorized that withdrawal."
The representative's voice became serious.
"Mr. Williams, then we need to open a formal fraud investigation immediately."
"Please do."
"There is something else you should know."
My heart stopped.
"What?"
"The person who submitted the withdrawal also requested information about a second account associated with your daughter's name."
I stared at the wall.
"What second account?"
The representative hesitated.
"A custodial investment account."
Alicia had opened that account when Maya was born.
I'd never told Denise how much it contained.
I'd barely touched it myself.
"Was any money withdrawn?" I asked.
"Not yet, sir."
Relief rushed through me.
Then the representative continued.
"But someone submitted paperwork this morning requesting liquidation of the entire balance."
I closed my eyes.
"How much?"
She told me.
One hundred and forty-six thousand dollars.
For a moment, the room tilted.
Maya stood beside my desk.
"Dad, what's wrong?"
I looked at my daughter.
Then toward the front door.
Denise had not been trying to help Tasha buy an apartment.
May you like
She had been trying to empty everything Alicia left behind.
And somehow, she had learned exactly where the money was.
