Chapter 7
Security doubled that day.
Dad canceled every meeting.
Mom kept all curtains closed.
Rachel wanted to leave.
Dad refused to let her walk into danger.
They argued for twenty minutes.
“I cannot live behind guards,” Rachel said.
“It’s temporary.”
“You don’t know that.”
“No.”
Dad’s voice softened.
“But I know Martin is watching you.”
Rachel looked toward Caleb.
That ended the argument.
Detective Ruiz came to the house.
She showed Rachel some of the photographs.
Not Caleb.
Not me.
I saw one anyway.
Rachel walking out of a grocery store.
Another beside a bus stop.
One through the motel window.
My stomach turned.
Someone had watched them struggle.
For months.
And done nothing.
No.
Worse.
Martin had watched because he wanted something.
“What does he think she has?” I asked.
Everyone looked at me.
Ruiz said, “Probably more evidence.”
“Does she?”
Rachel hesitated.
Dad noticed.
“What else?”
Rachel looked down.
“I kept a notebook.”
“A notebook?”
“Dates.”
Her voice became quiet.
“Vendor names.”
“Amounts?”
“Yes.”
Dad leaned forward.
“Where is it?”
Rachel said nothing.
Caleb looked at her.
Then his eyes widened.
“Mom.”
She immediately shook her head.
“No.”
“What?”
“I know where it is.”
Rachel went pale.
“Caleb.”
“What notebook?” I asked.
He looked at me.
“The red one.”
Rachel stood.
“You were never supposed to know.”
“I saw you hide it.”
“Where?”
Caleb swallowed.
“Our old apartment.”
Dad stared.
“The apartment you lost?”
Rachel nodded.
“We were evicted.”
“When?”
“Eight months ago.”
“Who lives there now?”
“I don’t know.”
Ruiz immediately made calls.
The apartment was vacant.
Scheduled for renovation.
The notebook might still be there.
Rachel wanted to retrieve it herself.
Ruiz refused.
A police team went instead.
For two hours we waited.
Then the call came.
They found it.
Behind a loose board beneath the kitchen sink.
Rachel cried when Ruiz brought it into the house.
“It’s all there.”
Dad turned pages.
Her handwriting filled them.
Names.
Dates.
Payments.
Questions.
A record of someone desperately trying to prove she was not crazy.
Dad stopped on one page.
“What?”
Rachel moved beside him.
A name was circled.
Voss Consulting.
Dad frowned.
“What is that?”
“A vendor.”
“That isn’t Martin’s company.”
“I know.”
Ruiz looked.
“Who owns it?”
Rachel pointed to initials beside the name.
“T.H.”
Dad’s face tightened.
Thomas.
The evidence against his brother became worse.
Dad called him.
No answer.
Again.
Nothing.
Then Mom said quietly, “Where is Thomas?”
Nobody knew.
Ruiz sent officers to his apartment.
Empty.
His phone was off.
Now both Martin and Thomas were missing.
Dad walked into his study.
I followed.
He stood at the window.
“You okay?”
He turned.
“Why aren’t you with Caleb?”
“He’s with Mom.”
Dad nodded.
I climbed onto a chair.
“Did Uncle Thomas steal?”
Dad sat across from me.
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know.”
“You always say people have reasons.”
“They do.”
“Does that make bad things okay?”
“No.”
I thought about Caleb.
“Did you fire Rachel because you were protecting Uncle Thomas?”
Dad looked hurt.
“No.”
“But you believed him.”
“Yes.”
“Because he was your brother?”
Dad was silent.
That was the answer.
I looked down.
“If Caleb did something bad, would you believe me instead of him?”
Dad frowned.
“What?”
“If we were older.”
“I would look at evidence.”
“You didn’t with Rachel.”
His face changed.
I had hurt him.
But I didn’t take it back.
Dad leaned forward.
“You’re right.”
I looked up.
“I trusted someone because I loved him.”
“Is that bad?”
“No.”
He paused.
“But love cannot replace truth.”
I remembered that sentence.
Later, Ruiz received an alert.
Thomas had used his credit card.
At a gas station sixty miles north.
Police headed there.
Martin remained missing.
That night, Rachel finally agreed to sleep.
Mom took the first security check.
Dad took the second.
At midnight, I found Caleb downstairs.
He was standing in the kitchen holding bread.
“Hungry?”
He jumped.
Then nodded.
We sat at the island.
He tore the roll carefully in half.
Then held one piece toward me.
I smiled.
“You bought that with your allowance?”
He rolled his eyes.
“No.”
I took it anyway.
We ate quietly.
After a while he said, “I remember you.”
“What?”
“Before the bread.”
I frowned.
“You saw me?”
He nodded.
“With your mom.”
“Why didn’t you say anything?”
“You looked busy.”
“I’m seven.”
He shrugged.
“You looked busy for seven.”
I laughed quietly.
Then he said, “I thought rich kids were mean.”
“Why?”
“A kid at school said his dad said people like us are lazy.”
I stopped smiling.
“People like you?”
“Poor.”
My chest tightened.
“You’re not lazy.”
“I know.”
“Your mom isn’t either.”
“I know.”
He looked at the bread.
“She works all the time.”
“I know.”
“She just loses jobs.”
“I know.”
“Because of your dad’s company.”
That hurt.
“Yes.”
Caleb looked at me.
“You’re not your dad.”
I wanted to defend him.
Then I realized Caleb wasn’t insulting him.
He was separating me from Dad’s mistake.
The way Dad needed to separate Rachel from the accusation.
“Your mom isn’t what people said either.”
Caleb nodded.
Then the security alarm screamed.
Both of us jumped.
Dad ran into the kitchen.
“Upstairs!”
“What happened?”
“Now!”
Mom appeared and grabbed us.
Rachel came running.
“Caleb!”
The guards shouted outside.
A car engine roared.
Then something slammed against the front gate.
Caleb started crying.
Rachel held him tightly.
Dad checked his phone.
Camera footage filled the screen.
A black SUV had rammed the gate.
The same kind Martin had driven.
But this vehicle was different.
Stolen.
The driver reversed.
Then accelerated again.
Security blocked the driveway.
Police sirens sounded in the distance.
The SUV swerved and sped away.
Before it disappeared, something flew from the driver’s window.
A package landed near the gate.
Ruiz arrived minutes later.
The package contained one thing.
Rachel’s old employee badge.
Across the photograph, written in black marker, were four words.
GIVE ME THE ORIGINAL FILES.
Rachel stared.
“There are no originals.”
Ruiz looked at her.
“Martin apparently thinks there are.”
Dad asked, “Why?”
Rachel’s face slowly changed.
Then she whispered, “Because there were.”
Everyone went still.
“What do you mean, were?”
Rachel looked at Caleb.
“I destroyed them.”
“When?”
“The night we lost the apartment.”
Dad frowned.
“Why?”
“I was afraid.”
“Of Martin?”
“No.”
She swallowed.
“Of Thomas.”
My father stopped breathing.
Rachel continued.
“Martin stole the money.”
May you like
Then she looked at Dad.
“But your brother was the one who threatened me first.”
