Chapter 2 - THE MONEY MY MOTHER STOLE
The police took Teresa into another room to question her.
I remained at the dining table while the officer continued opening files from the flash drive.
Amy sat beside me.
She looked exhausted.
“Connor,” she whispered, “I don't understand.”
“Neither do I.”
The officer opened a spreadsheet.
The first column contained dates.
The second contained amounts.
The third contained descriptions.
Household expenses.
Groceries.
Baby supplies.
Medical expenses.
Utilities.
Every month, Teresa had taken the $3,000 I sent her.
But the money had never gone toward our household.
The officer highlighted several transactions.
“Restaurants.”
“Designer clothing.”
“Private club.”
“Luxury hotel.”
Amy stared at the screen.
“She told me we couldn't afford new baby clothes.”
My jaw tightened.
Another transfer appeared.
$8,700.
Then $12,400.
Then $19,000.
The recipient was Horizon Family Holdings.
“What is that company?” I asked.
The officer searched the corporate records.
His expression changed.
“That's interesting.”
“What?”
“The registered owner is listed as Teresa Hale.”
I laughed once.
Not because anything was funny.
Because I couldn't believe how stupidly I had trusted her.
The officer continued.
“But the company was established using an identification number associated with your father's estate.”
My blood ran cold.
“My father's estate?”
He nodded.
“Someone used estate records to establish this company.”
Amy looked at me.
“Why?”
Before I could answer, Betsy appeared at the doorway.
“Because your mother couldn't legally control your inheritance.”
I stood.
“Then she created another company to move the money?”
Betsy nodded.
“She thought no one would notice.”
“How much?”
Betsy looked away.
“More than a million dollars.”
Amy gasped.
I couldn't speak.
My father had spent his entire life building a small manufacturing business.
When he died, I inherited a portion of his assets.
Teresa told me she had invested everything for me.
I had believed her.
Instead, she had been moving the money into a company under her control.
The officer opened another file.
It contained scanned checks.
Every check had my signature.
I stared at them.
“That isn't my signature.”
The officer zoomed in.
“It looks like someone practiced it.”
I felt sick.
Then another document appeared.
A loan agreement.
The borrower was Horizon Family Holdings.
The collateral was my house.
My house.
The one I had been paying the mortgage on for years.
“How could she use my house as collateral?”
The officer pointed to the signature.
“Forgery.”
Amy reached for my hand.
Her fingers were trembling.
Then the front door opened.
A woman in a dark navy suit stepped inside.
She showed the officers her identification.
“I'm Helen Carter. I'm a forensic accountant working with the district attorney.”
She looked directly at me.
“Mr. Hale, we need to talk.”
“About my mother?”
“About your mother, your finances, and someone else.”
“Who?”
Helen placed a folder on the table.
“The person who has been receiving payments from Horizon Family Holdings.”
I opened it.
The name was familiar.
Too familiar.
My aunt Betsy stared at the page.
I looked at her.
“What?”
Helen answered.
“Your mother wasn't acting alone.”
Betsy began to cry.
“I tried to stop her.”
I stepped toward her.
“Who was helping her?”
She hesitated.
Then she whispered a name that made Amy's face go white.
“Colin.”
My sister's husband.
I suddenly remembered the way Colin had looked at my house earlier.
Not like a guest.
Like an owner.
And then I understood.
May you like
Marissa hadn't simply needed somewhere to live.
They had come because they believed the house was about to become theirs.
