Teresa met us at a coffee shop the following morning.
She arrived carrying a canvas bag.
She did not sit until Bell had checked the room.
“Your mother told me the police were asking about the ledger,” she said.
“They are.”
Teresa looked at me.
“I never wanted you involved.”
“I was already involved.”
She lowered her eyes.
“You're right.”
She opened the bag.
For a moment, I thought she was going to pull out the black notebook.
Instead, she placed a sealed plastic folder on the table.
“This is all I have.”
Inside were photocopied pages.
The original ledger was gone.
I recognized my father's handwriting.
Dates.
Amounts.
Account numbers.
Names.
Beside several payments was a small letter E.
Evan.
Beside others was a C.
“Who's C?”
Teresa looked at Bell.
“Marissa Cole.”
I stared at the pages.
“Why would my father pay her?”
“He wasn't paying her,” Teresa said.
“Then what?”
“She was paying him.”
“For what?”
“Access.”
The warehouse.
The inventory.
The records.
It all began to make sense.
Marissa had been altering records.
Evan had been moving inventory.
My father had been covering the discrepancies.
And someone had been taking the money.
“Where was Madison's father involved?”
Teresa hesitated.
“He discovered it.”
“That's why Madison was at the warehouse.”
“Yes.”
“What happened after?”
“Her father threatened to report them.”
“Did he?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because he was afraid.”
I looked at the pages.
“Of Evan?”
“Of all of them.”
I turned another page.
Then I saw a familiar name.
My mother's.
Not as a recipient.
As a witness.
Beside it was a date.
The day Madison disappeared.
My heart began beating faster.
“What does this mean?”
Teresa looked at the line.
“She wasn't supposed to be there.”
“Who?”
“Your mother.”
“Why was she at the warehouse?”
Teresa closed her eyes.
“She went to get the ledger.”
I looked at Bell.
“Did she see Madison?”
“Yes.”
My voice dropped.
“And she left her there.”
Teresa nodded.
“She said she was trying to get help.”
I felt a wave of anger.
“She left a child with Evan.”
“She thought she could return.”
“Why didn't she?”
“She was followed.”
“By whom?”
Teresa looked at me.
“Your father.”
I stood so quickly that my chair struck the table.
“No.”
Teresa did not move.
“He followed her because he believed she had the ledger.”
I stared at the pages.
The family I had known was becoming unrecognizable.
But there was still something that did not fit.
“If Mom went there to get the ledger, why did she have it afterward?”
“She didn't.”
I looked at Teresa.
“She gave it to me.”
“When?”
“That night.”
“Then why did Dad say she gave it away?”
“Because he didn't know I had it.”
I sat down.
The pieces shifted again.
My mother had not been hiding the ledger in the house.
She had given it to Teresa.
Teresa had copied it.
Then someone had taken the original.
“Who knew you had it?”
“Your mother.”
“Anyone else?”
“Madison.”
I felt cold.
“How?”
“She saw me with it.”
“Before she disappeared?”
“Yes.”
“Did Evan know?”
Teresa nodded.
“That is why he took her.”
Bell leaned forward.
“Why didn't you tell us this sooner?”
Teresa looked ashamed.
“Because I was afraid.”
“For three days?”
“For years.”
Bell frowned.
“Years?”
Teresa opened another folder.
Inside was a photograph of Madison's father.
He stood beside a warehouse door.
Next to him was my father.
And behind them was Evan.
All three were younger.
All three looked directly at the camera.
I stared.
“This wasn't taken six months ago.”
“No.”
“When?”
“Four years ago.”
I looked at Teresa.
“What happened four years ago?”
She swallowed.
“That was when the first money disappeared.”
My divorce had happened much later.
Madison had been much younger.
Evan had already been involved.
My father had already known.
And I had been living my life completely unaware.
Bell took the photograph.
“Where did you get this?”
“Madison's father gave it to me.”
“Why?”
“He said if anything happened to him, I should show it to Madison.”
I looked at the photograph again.
“Is Madison's father alive?”
Teresa nodded.
“Then why hasn't he told the police?”
“He is in hiding.”
“From whom?”
She didn't answer.
She didn't have to.
That afternoon, Bell found him.
His name was Daniel Reyes.
He agreed to meet at a church outside town.
Daniel looked exhausted.
He kept glancing through the windows.
“I should have gone to the police years ago,” he said.
“Why didn't you?”
“Because your father paid me.”
My stomach dropped.
“For what?”
“To stay quiet.”
“About the warehouse?”
“Yes.”
“How much?”
“Enough to make me believe I could start over.”
He rubbed his face.
“Then Marissa found out.”
“What did she find?”
“That your father was using Evan to move money through shell accounts.”
“Why?”
Daniel looked at me.
“To fund something bigger.”
“What?”
He shook his head.
“I never learned.”
Bell leaned forward.
“Did it involve Claire?”
Daniel nodded.
“She was supposed to be the clean account.”
I felt sick.
“Why me?”
“Because nobody suspected you.”
I looked at Bell.
“What does that mean?”
Daniel reached into his coat.
He handed Bell a small memory card.
“Everything is on that.”
Bell sealed it immediately.
“What is it?”
“Copies of the ledger.”
I stared at Daniel.
“Why give it to us now?”
He looked at me.
“Because Madison told me she trusted you.”
My throat tightened.
“She said you were the one person who didn't look away.”
I looked down.
For months, I had thought I had failed everyone.
Now I understood something different.
I had not known what was happening.
But when I finally saw it, I had refused to walk away.
That mattered.
Bell stood.
“We're going to need you to come with us.”
Daniel nodded.
Then my phone rang.
My mother's number.
I answered.
Her voice was barely audible.
“Claire, don't come back here.”
“Why?”
“Because your father wasn't the one Evan was afraid of.”
I froze.
“Who was he afraid of?”
My mother whispered a name.
Marissa.
Then the call ended.
Click here to continue reading: PART 11: Marissa Had Been Using My Family for Years, and the Last Piece of Evidence Forced Me to Choose Between Silence and the Truth
I Thought Moving Back Home Would Be the Hardest Part of Starting Over, Until I Heard a Child Crying Beneath My Bedroom Floor
Part 10 of 12
