For several seconds, Amanda could not make sense of the number.
$250,000.
It sat beneath Katie’s full legal name in clean black type, surrounded by language that looked familiar enough to be understood and technical enough to feel unreal.
Detective Reynolds did not touch the first page with his bare hands. He wore gloves and turned it by one corner, his eyes moving slowly from line to line.
Amanda stood across from him.
“What is it?”
He did not answer immediately.
The uniformed officer remained near the office door, while the second officer moved farther into the hallway to keep watch for Andrew’s return.
Amanda stepped closer.
“Detective.”
Reynolds looked up.
“It appears to be an accidental death insurance policy.”
Amanda heard the words individually.
They did not combine into meaning.
“For Katie?”
“Yes.”
“She’s ten.”
“That doesn’t prevent someone from purchasing certain forms of coverage.”
Amanda stared at the page.
“But why?”
“That’s what we need to determine.”
He turned another sheet.
The policy had been issued eight months earlier.
Amanda recognized Andrew’s name immediately.
Policy owner.
Beneficiary.
Her stomach tightened.
“How can he be the beneficiary of insurance on my daughter?”
Reynolds kept reading.
“Andrew is her stepfather.”
“He never told me.”
“Did you sign anything?”
“No.”
“Did you give him permission?”
“No.”
“Did you ever discuss life or accident insurance for Katie?”
Amanda shook her head.
“We have health insurance. Dental. That’s it.”
Reynolds reached another page and stopped.
Amanda saw her own name.
Beside it was a signature.
Her signature.
Except it was not hers.
At first glance, it was convincing.
The capital A curled the way she normally wrote it. The last letters of her surname slanted upward. Someone had even copied the small break she often left between her first and last name when signing quickly.
Amanda leaned closer.
“That’s fake.”
Reynolds looked at her.
“You’re certain?”
“I know my own signature.”
“How is it different?”
Amanda pointed without touching the paper.
“The M. I don’t make it like that anymore. I used to, maybe ten years ago.”
Reynolds followed her finger.
“And here. Whoever copied this joined the last two letters. I don’t.”
He photographed the page.
Amanda felt a pressure behind her eyes.
Andrew had not simply hidden papers.
He had forged her signature on an insurance policy involving Katie.
Then Katie saw it.
Then he followed her toward gymnastics.
Then she ended up beneath a car.
The chain of facts was beginning to form something Amanda did not want to name.
Reynolds continued through the folder.
There were copies of identification documents.
Katie’s birth certificate.
Her Social Security number.
A school emergency contact form.
A photocopy of Amanda’s driver’s license.
Amanda felt each one like an invasion.
“He had all of this?”
“You recognize the documents?”
“Yes.”
“Where were they normally kept?”
“Fireproof box in our bedroom closet.”
“Who had access?”
“Andrew and me.”
Reynolds turned another page.
This one showed payment information.
Monthly premiums had been taken from a bank account Amanda did not recognize.
“Is that yours?”
“No.”
“Joint account?”
“No.”
Reynolds photographed the routing information.
Amanda read the bank name.
It was not the bank she and Andrew used for household expenses.
She looked at him.
“He has another account?”
“Maybe.”
Amanda laughed once under her breath.
Nothing about it was funny.
For years she had assumed Andrew complained about money because they shared all of it.
He questioned grocery bills.
He criticized her for replacing Katie’s winter coat before the old one was completely worn through.
He once spent forty minutes comparing prices because Amanda wanted to replace a leaking dishwasher.
Apparently he had also maintained a bank account she did not know existed.
Reynolds turned another page.
A handwritten note was clipped behind the policy.
Three dates.
Three dollar amounts.
A telephone number.
And one name.
Barbara.
Amanda’s pulse jumped.
“What does that say?”
Reynolds read it silently first.
Then aloud.
“Barbara—transfer after payout.”
Amanda took a step backward.
“No.”
Reynolds looked at her.
“No what?”
“She wouldn’t.”
“You know what this refers to?”
“No.”
“Then don’t decide yet.”
Amanda put one hand against the desk.
Barbara had been selfish.
Controlling.
Cruel in the way people could be cruel while still insisting they were behaving reasonably.
But murder?
Amanda’s mind rejected the word.
“She loves Katie.”
Reynolds’s face remained neutral.
“Does she?”
Amanda looked at him sharply.
“Yes.”
“Then we’ll establish that with evidence.”
Something about the way he said it made Amanda angry.
“You’re talking about my family.”
“I know.”
“No, you’re looking at paperwork. I’m talking about people I’ve known for years.”
Reynolds closed the folder temporarily.
“And one of those people may have tried to kill your daughter yesterday.”
The words ended the argument.
Amanda turned away.
Outside the office window, sunlight lay across the lawn.
She saw Katie there in memory—seven years old, chasing bubbles while Barbara sat under an umbrella complaining about mosquitoes. Andrew had grilled hamburgers. Everyone had laughed.
Had those moments been fake?
No.
That was the frightening part.
People did not need every moment to be fake in order to betray you.
The detective’s phone rang.
He answered.
Amanda listened to only his side.
“Yes.”
“When?”
“Get the footage.”
“Don’t approach him yet.”
His eyes shifted toward Amanda.
“Text me the plate.”
He ended the call.
“What happened?”
“Traffic-camera footage.”
Amanda gripped the desk edge.
“From the accident?”
“Possibly.”
“Did they find the car?”
“We’re working on it.”
“That means yes.”
Reynolds was silent.
Amanda understood.
“What car?”
“We don’t have confirmation.”
“What color?”
“A silver sedan.”
Amanda tried to remember everyone she knew who drove silver.
Her mind offered too many options.
“What kind?”
“Toyota Camry.”
Amanda went still.
Barbara drove a silver Toyota Camry.
Reynolds saw the recognition immediately.
“Who?”
Amanda barely managed the words.
“My mother-in-law.”
He did not react visibly.
“What year?”
“I don’t know. Maybe five years old.”
“Plate?”
Amanda closed her eyes, trying to picture it.
“I don’t know.”
“Where is her car now?”
“She said she and Andrew were picking up the cake.”
“Together?”
“That’s what he told me.”
Reynolds stepped into the hallway and spoke quickly to one of the officers.
“Get units to Barbara Reynolds’s address and the bakery on Maple. Locate the Camry. Do not make contact unless necessary. We need the vehicle preserved.”
Amanda followed.
“You think Barbara hit Katie?”
“I think we have a vehicle consistent with hers captured near the scene.”
“You just said the driver didn’t stop.”
“He or she didn’t.”
“Barbara would have known it was Katie.”
“Maybe.”
Amanda’s hand went to her mouth.
The room tilted again.
No.
There had to be another Camry.
There were thousands.
Reynolds returned to the folder.
“This is why we don’t jump ahead.”
Amanda looked toward the front door.
“How long until Andrew gets back?”
“We don’t know.”
“I should leave.”
“Yes.”
But Amanda did not move.
Something in the office had caught her attention.
The printer.
A sheet of paper sat crooked in the output tray.
She stepped toward it.
“Detective.”
Reynolds followed her gaze.
The sheet appeared blank except for faint marks near one corner.
He lifted it with gloves.
It was the final page of a document printed backward.
The ink was pale because the cartridge had begun running low.
Reynolds turned it toward the light.
“Can you read that?”
Amanda squinted.
At the bottom was part of an email address.
Above it, several lines.
One phrase was visible.
Claim documentation.
Reynolds opened the printer’s small digital menu.
“Do you know whether this stores print history?”
“I have no idea.”
He photographed the screen.
A list appeared.
Insurance Claim Checklist.
Printed yesterday.
4:18 p.m.
Amanda’s skin went cold.
Katie had entered the office around that time.
“What is that?”
Reynolds looked at the time.
“Potentially very important.”
Amanda remembered Katie saying she had seen papers in an open drawer.
Perhaps Andrew had not been reviewing an old policy.
He had been preparing paperwork.
Before the accident.
The detective looked at her.
“Did Andrew know Katie would walk to gymnastics?”
“Yes.”
“Was that routine?”
“Three days a week.”
“Same route?”
“Usually.”
“Same time?”
“Yes.”
The pieces aligned more cleanly than Amanda wanted them to.
Reynolds continued examining the print log.
Another document.
Accidental Death Claim Requirements.
4:09 p.m.
Another.
Beneficiary Verification.
4:12 p.m.
Another.
Policy Exclusions—Traffic Fatalities.
4:15 p.m.
Amanda sat heavily in the desk chair.
“He printed instructions for claiming the money before she was hit.”
Reynolds did not soften it.
“That’s what the timestamps appear to show.”
Amanda pressed both palms against her thighs.
“Then Katie walked in.”
“Yes.”
“And saw them.”
“Possibly.”
“And Andrew knew she saw.”
“Yes.”
Amanda looked toward the dark jacket hanging near the entryway.
He had not needed to kill her because she discovered something old.
He may have been planning what came next already.
Katie’s discovery might only have forced him to move faster.
A car door slammed outside.
Every person in the house froze.
The officer near the hallway window looked through the blinds.
“Black SUV.”
Amanda’s breath caught.
“Andrew sometimes uses Barbara’s SUV when she takes the Camry.”
The officer moved toward the front door.
Reynolds stepped in front of Amanda.
“Stay here.”
Footsteps crossed the porch.
A key entered the lock.
The front door opened.
Andrew’s voice carried through the foyer.
“Amanda?”
No one answered.
He stepped farther inside.
“Amanda, where are you?”
Reynolds signaled to the officers.
Andrew appeared in the office doorway.
He stopped.
For one second, his expression held nothing but surprise.
Then he saw the open drawer.
The gray folder.
Detective Reynolds.
And Amanda sitting beside the desk.
All color left his face.
“What are you doing?”
Amanda rose slowly.
Andrew looked at her first.
Then Reynolds.
Then the folder.
His gaze remained there half a second too long.
Reynolds spoke.
“Andrew Reynolds?”
Andrew swallowed.
“Yes.”
“I’m Detective Mark Reynolds. We need to ask you some questions concerning Katie’s accident.”
Andrew’s jaw tightened.
“Why are you in my office?”
“This is also Amanda’s residence.”
“You searched my private files.”
Reynolds remained calm.
“We can discuss procedure later.”
Andrew looked at Amanda.
“You brought police into our house?”
She stared at him.
“You forged my signature.”
The muscles in his face changed.
Not shock.
Calculation.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Amanda pointed to the folder.
“Katie’s insurance.”
Andrew’s eyes flicked toward Reynolds.
“I can explain that.”
“Then explain it.”
“Not with cops standing here.”
Reynolds said, “You’re free to speak with counsel.”
Andrew ignored him.
“Amanda, listen to me. The insurance was for financial protection. Families do this all the time.”
“You put yourself as beneficiary.”
“I pay the bills.”
“You forged my signature.”
“I didn’t forge anything.”
“Then who signed it?”
Andrew looked toward the hallway.
Amanda noticed sweat beginning at his temple despite the cool house.
“Where’s Mom?” he asked.
Reynolds spoke before Amanda could.
“That’s something we’d like to know.”
Andrew’s eyes sharpened.
“She’s at home.”
“You told Amanda you were with her.”
“I was.”
“Then you left?”
“Yes.”
“Where is her Camry?”
Andrew hesitated.
“At her house.”
Reynolds’s phone buzzed.
He read the message.
His gaze settled on Andrew.
“No, it isn’t.”
Andrew said nothing.
Reynolds continued.
“Officers are at Barbara’s residence now. The Camry is gone.”
Andrew looked toward Amanda.
“This is ridiculous.”
“Where is the car?”
“I don’t know.”
“Who was driving it yesterday at approximately 5:20 p.m.?”
Andrew’s face became rigid.
Amanda watched him closely.
“Why are you asking me?”
“Because a silver Camry consistent with Barbara’s vehicle was recorded near the location where Katie was struck.”
Andrew blinked once.
Too slowly.
Amanda saw it.
So did Reynolds.
Andrew recovered.
“There are millions of silver Camrys.”
“That’s true.”
“Then you have nothing.”
Amanda stared.
Nothing.
Not concern.
Not disbelief.
Not horror that his mother’s car might have been involved.
Nothing.
Reynolds stepped closer.
“Where were you at 5:20 yesterday?”
“At a movie.”
“What theater?”
Andrew named it.
“What seat?”
“What?”
“What seat were you in?”
Andrew frowned.
“I don’t remember.”
“What happened in the opening scene?”
Andrew’s mouth opened.
No answer came.
“What theater number?”
“I don’t know. Seven? Eight?”
“What concession did you buy?”
“I didn’t.”
“Who tore your ticket?”
“I used a kiosk.”
Reynolds nodded.
“You purchased a paper ticket?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Andrew stared at him.
“I felt like it.”
Reynolds’s phone buzzed again.
He read the screen.
This time his expression changed just enough for Amanda to notice.
“What?”
He looked at Andrew.
“The theater has already provided preliminary security footage.”
Andrew’s breathing became shallow.
Reynolds continued.
“You purchased that ticket at 8:47 p.m.”
Silence.
Amanda felt the truth pass through the room.
Not proof of everything.
But proof of one lie.
Andrew looked toward her.
“Amanda—”
She stepped back.
“You bought it after Katie was in the hospital.”
“I can explain.”
“You put it on your nightstand.”
“I said I can explain.”
“You wanted me to find it.”
“No.”
“You wanted someone to find it.”
Andrew’s voice rose.
“Stop turning everything into some insane conspiracy.”
Reynolds raised one hand.
“Andrew.”
“What?”
“We’re going to continue this conversation at the station.”
“I’m not going anywhere.”
“You are not under arrest at this moment.”
“Then get out of my house.”
Reynolds did not move.
Andrew pointed toward the doorway.
“All of you.”
Then Reynolds’s phone rang.
He answered.
Amanda watched his face.
“Yes.”
“Where?”
His eyes lifted to Andrew.
“Secure it.”
He ended the call.
Andrew said nothing.
Reynolds placed the phone into his pocket.
“Your mother’s Camry has been found.”
Amanda’s knees weakened.
“Where?”
“Abandoned behind a storage facility about six miles from here.”
Andrew stared at him.
Reynolds continued.
“The front passenger-side headlight is broken.”
No one spoke.
“And,” Reynolds added, “there is blood on the hood.”
Andrew’s face collapsed.
Only for a second.
But it was enough.
Click Here to continue read next: PART6: Andrew’s False Movie Alibi Began Crumbling at the Station While Police Found Evidence Barbara Had Tried to Make the Camry Disappear
Amanda Refused to Leave Her Daughter’s Hospital Bed, Never Guessing Why Her Family Needed Her Home Before Morning
Part 5 of 12
