Chapter 9 - THEY WERE MET AT THE GATE
Jessica's plane landed in Orlando at 1:07 p.m.
She never reached baggage claim.
Neither did Mom.
Neither did Dad.
By then, the situation had moved far beyond a family dispute.
Airport police had coordinated with authorities in Orlando.
Child protective services had been notified.
And because forged financial records, stolen identity information, interstate travel arrangements, and an international charter were now part of the investigation, federal agents were also waiting.
I didn't see the confrontation in person.
But I heard about it almost immediately.
Jessica stepped off the jet first.
According to the investigator updating us, she was laughing with Mom.
Dad followed behind them.
Then they saw the people waiting near the arrival gate.
Two federal agents.
Local law enforcement.
A child-services representative.
And an airline security manager.
Jessica stopped walking.
Mom apparently asked, “What's this about?”
Dad didn't ask anything.
He turned around.
That was all the officers needed to notice.
He was stopped before he reached the jet bridge.
They weren't dramatically handcuffed in front of passengers.
Not yet.
They were separated and escorted for questioning.
Their phones were collected according to investigative procedure.
So were their bags.
Jessica demanded to call me.
The investigators initially refused.
Then, after speaking with legal counsel, they allowed a monitored call.
My phone rang.
I looked at Mark.
He nodded.
I answered.
“Brooke!”
Jessica was screaming.
Not crying.
Screaming.
“What did you do?”
I almost smiled at the absurdity.
“What did I do?”
“You called Mark?”
“You abandoned his daughter.”
“She is your niece!”
“That doesn't make me her mother.”
“I needed ten days!”
“You bought a one-way ticket for your child.”
Silence.
Then Jessica hissed, “You don't understand anything.”
“I understand the forged signature.”
“Mom said that form was harmless.”
Mom.
Jessica had just implicated her without realizing it.
The investigator beside me wrote something down.
I continued.
“What about my credit card?”
“I was going to pay you back.”
“My savings?”
Another silence.
Jessica lowered her voice.
“Dad handled the money.”
Another gift.
Another admission.
“You broke into my apartment.”
“I didn't break in. Mom had a key.”
Across the table, the investigator's eyebrows rose.
Jessica seemed to realize what she'd said.
Her breathing became uneven.
“Brooke, please.”
It was the first time she had sounded scared.
“You need to tell them this was a misunderstanding.”
“No.”
“Please.”
“No.”
“If they look at everything, Dad is finished.”
I thought about Lily.
The pink suitcase.
The one-way ticket.
The boxes containing her entire childhood.
“What about Lily?”
Jessica went silent.
“You were willing to destroy me. You were willing to leave your daughter. And you're worried about Dad?”
“You don't know what he did for us.”
“Then tell me.”
She hesitated.
“Jessica.”
Her voice dropped.
“Dad didn't steal the money for himself.”
I frowned.
“Then who did he steal it for?”
Someone on Jessica's side said her time was up.
She started talking faster.
“Brooke, Derek wasn't supposed to know where all of it came from.”
“What does that mean?”
“Jessica?”
The line crackled.
Then she said something that shifted the entire investigation again.
“The Cayman account isn't Dad's.”
“Whose is it?”
May you like
There was a pause.
“Derek's.”
