Chapter 5
I watched Malcolm read that message again.
His hands were trembling.
“What does she mean?” I asked.
He didn't answer.
“Malcolm.”
His eyes remained fixed on the phone.
Finally, he whispered, “She's talking about the hospital.”
I felt cold all over.
Nicole had died five years earlier.
I remembered the hospital corridor.
The smell of disinfectant.
The nurses moving quietly.
The terrible silence after the doctor came out of her room.
“What happened at the hospital?”
Malcolm sat down.
“Nicole and I argued the night before she died.”
I stared at him.
“About what?”
“Money.”
I waited.
“She wanted me to stop letting Tasha help with our finances.”
My heart stopped.
“Tasha?”
He nodded miserably.
Before Nicole passed away, Tasha had been an administrative assistant at Malcolm's former company.
She and Malcolm had become friendly.
After Nicole's death, their friendship developed into a relationship.
They married two years later.
I had never questioned that timeline.
Not seriously.
Now I wished I had.
“Why was Tasha involved in your finances while Nicole was alive?”
Malcolm rubbed his face.
“She helped organize paperwork when Nicole got sick. Medical bills, insurance forms, things like that.”
“Did Nicole trust her?”
“At first.”
“And later?”
He looked away.
“She found some charges she didn't recognize.”
My stomach twisted.
“What charges?”
“Small amounts. A few hundred dollars.”
“Did you investigate?”
“I thought Nicole was confused because of her medication.”
I closed my eyes.
“Oh, Malcolm.”
“I know.”
“Tell me what happened that night.”
His voice cracked.
“Nicole wanted me to stop Tasha from handling anything. I told her she was being unfair.”
“And?”
“She said someone was trying to get access to money meant for Isaiah.”
I gripped the table.
“What did you say?”
“I accused her of being paranoid.”
The words landed between us.
Heavy.
Ugly.
Unforgivable.
“She cried,” Malcolm whispered. “She told me that if anything happened to her, I needed to protect our son.”
I could barely breathe.
“What happened afterward?”
“I left the hospital room angry. When I came back the next morning, her condition had worsened.”
Tears ran down his face.
“I never got to apologize.”
For several minutes, neither of us spoke.
Then I reached across the table.
“Malcolm, arguing with Nicole did not cause her illness.”
“I know.”
“But ignoring her concerns may have allowed something terrible to continue.”
He nodded.
“I know that too.”
Claire listened without interrupting.
Then she asked him to preserve Tasha's message.
“Don't delete anything,” she said. “And don't argue about the hospital by text.”
Malcolm nodded.
“Can she use this against me?”
“She can make allegations,” Claire answered. “Our job is to respond with accurate evidence.”
Mr. Whitcomb leaned forward on the screen.
“There's something you should know.”
We both looked at him.
“Nicole told me she was concerned about unauthorized financial activity shortly before she died.”
My chest tightened.
“Did she name Tasha?”
“She mentioned someone who had been helping the family with paperwork.”
Malcolm covered his eyes.
“Why didn't you tell me?”
“I attempted to arrange a meeting. Nicole died before it occurred. Afterward, I wrote to you regarding several outstanding estate matters.”
“I never received those letters.”
Mr. Whitcomb paused.
“That is one reason our office is reviewing how correspondence was handled.”
A terrible possibility formed in my mind.
If Tasha had access to the mail, she might have seen those letters before Malcolm did.
But suspicion wasn't proof.
And I needed proof.
We left Claire's office shortly before noon.
Malcolm wanted to confront Tasha immediately.
I stopped him.
“Don't.”
“She lied about Nicole.”
“We don't know everything yet.”
“She took Isaiah's money.”
“We have suspicious transfers. Let the investigators establish who made them.”
He turned away.
I could see how much he wanted to scream.
But eventually, he nodded.
That afternoon, we went to Isaiah's school.
His teacher, Mrs. Hernandez, met us privately.
When I explained our concerns, her face grew serious.
“I'm glad you're here.”
Malcolm leaned forward.
“Has something happened?”
She looked down at her notes.
“Isaiah has been coming to school without lunch several times a week.”
My son went pale.
“What?”
“We provide meals when needed, but he sometimes refuses to ask.”
I thought of the notebook.
The shoes.
The way he always asked permission.
Mrs. Hernandez continued.
“He's also been unusually withdrawn.”
“Did he tell you why?” Malcolm asked.
“He said he didn't want to cause problems at home.”
My son swallowed.
Then she showed us a drawing.
Three children stood inside a house.
Two were smiling beside a woman.
The third stood outside in the rain.
Above that child, Isaiah had written:
ME.
I pressed my hand against my mouth.
Malcolm stared at the paper.
“Why didn't someone call me?”
“We attempted to contact the numbers on file,” Mrs. Hernandez said carefully. “Your wife responded and said the family was handling things.”
Malcolm closed his eyes.
“Please call me directly from now on.”
She agreed.
We also asked the school counselor to meet with Isaiah.
Not because he had done anything wrong.
Because he deserved someone safe to talk to.
When we returned to my house, Isaiah was sitting on the living room floor with his drawing supplies.
He looked up.
“Daddy, are you mad at me?”
Malcolm dropped to his knees.
“No, son.”
“Because the teacher talked to you?”
“No.”
Isaiah began picking at the edge of his sleeve.
“I didn't mean to tell secrets.”
Malcolm took his hands.
“You can always tell the truth about things that hurt you.”
“What if someone gets angry?”
“Then the adults will handle that.”
Isaiah studied his face.
“Even Tasha?”
Malcolm swallowed.
“Even Tasha.”
That evening, Claire called.
She had received copies of additional records from Mr. Whitcomb.
The documents included several old correspondence logs.
And one signature.
A delivery acknowledgment from three years earlier.
The person who had accepted Nicole's estate papers was not Malcolm.
It was Tasha.
Claire's voice became very serious.
“Evelyn, we now have evidence that Tasha received correspondence she claimed never existed.”
“Does that prove she stole the money?”
“No. But it establishes an important part of the timeline.”
Then she said something that made my stomach tighten.
“The records show that someone tried to access Isaiah's trust shortly after Tasha married Malcolm.”
I looked toward my grandson.
He was laughing at a cartoon.
May you like
For the first time in days, he looked like a normal nine-year-old boy.
And I realized how close we had come to letting him grow up believing his own family had forgotten him.
