Chapter 10 - What Rebecca Was Afraid to Say
I closed the shop early.
Not because I wanted to hide anything.
Because the conversation Rebecca needed to have could not happen with customers walking through the door.
Calvin locked the front entrance.
Then he joined us in Dad's office.
Rebecca sat in the chair beside the filing cabinet, twisting a tissue between her fingers.
Her eyes were red.
“I didn't steal from George,” she said.
I sat opposite her.
“Then tell me what happened.”
She looked at Calvin.
He folded his arms.
“Start at the beginning.”
Rebecca swallowed.
“Last November, Ethan came to the office.”
I remembered November.
Thanksgiving.
The strange questions.
The beginning of the trail.
“What did he want?” I asked.
“He said George was considering restructuring his properties.”
“That wasn't true.”
“I know that now.”
“What did you believe then?”
“That Ethan was helping you and George with estate planning.”
I leaned forward.
“Did Dad tell you that?”
“No.”
“Did I?”
“No.”
“Then why did you believe Ethan?”
Rebecca looked ashamed.
“Because he was your husband.”
The words hurt.
Not because they were unreasonable.
Because I had made the same mistake.
She continued.
“He asked for copies of lease summaries and property tax records.”
“Did you give them to him?”
“Yes.”
Calvin muttered something under his breath.
Rebecca looked at him.
“I know.”
“Keep going,” I said.
She took a shaky breath.
“In January, Ethan asked me to help reconcile some old account entries.”
“What accounts?”
“He said they were related to Bennett Industrial Properties.”
I stiffened.
“Did you have access?”
“Only limited access.”
Dad had given Rebecca the ability to view certain payments for reconciliation purposes.
She couldn't initiate transfers from the investment accounts.
But she could download reports.
And those reports would have shown lease income, tenant details, and account references.
“What happened next?”
Rebecca rubbed her palms together.
“In March, Ethan said a commercial finance company needed updated statements.”
“Did he name it?”
“Ridgeway.”
I closed my eyes briefly.
“Did you send the records?”
“Yes.”
“Without asking Dad?”
“Yes.”
Calvin pushed away from the wall.
“Rebecca, why?”
She began crying again.
“Because Ethan told me Lydia had approved it.”
I looked at her.
“And you believed him.”
“At first.”
“What changed?”
She opened her purse.
Inside was a folded letter.
She passed it to me.
The paper was creased from being handled many times.
At the top was the logo of a collection agency.
The letter demanded payment on an old medical debt.
The amount was $18,400.
Rebecca's husband had suffered a stroke the previous year.
He had lost his job.
The bills had accumulated.
Ethan knew.
“He offered to help,” she whispered.
I looked up.
“How?”
“He said he knew someone who could arrange temporary financing.”
“Warren Pike?”
She nodded.
My stomach tightened.
“They offered me thirty-two thousand dollars.”
“As a loan?”
“That's what they said.”
“What were the terms?”
“Ethan told me the money could be repaid once George's property transaction closed.”
I stared at her.
“And what did you agree to do?”
“Provide files.”
“Anything else?”
She lowered her eyes.
“Confirm that George was considering a sale.”
Calvin shook his head.
“You lied.”
“I did.”
Rebecca's voice broke.
“I told Pike that George was interested in selling.”
I sat back.
“You knew that wasn't true.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because I was desperate.”
I looked at the collection letter.
Desperation did not make the lie disappear.
But it explained how Ethan had found the weakest point.
He had done to Rebecca what he had tried to do to me.
He identified a need.
Offered protection.
Then converted the favor into control.
“What did the thirty-two thousand actually represent?” I asked.
Rebecca wiped her eyes.
“The transfer was described as a consulting payment.”
“Did you provide consulting services?”
“No.”
“Where did the money go?”
“Most of it went to the medical bills.”
“And the rest?”
“To our mortgage.”
I nodded slowly.
“Did Ethan threaten you?”
Rebecca stared at the floor.
“In July, I told him I wouldn't send anything else.”
“What did he say?”
“He said I had committed financial fraud.”
Her hands trembled.
“He told me the consulting payments would look like a bribe.”
“And?”
“He said if I stopped helping, he would report me.”
Calvin looked furious.
“Son of a—”
“Calvin,” I said quietly.
He stopped.
Rebecca continued.
“I wanted to tell George.”
“Why didn't you?”
“Because I thought he would fire me.”
I looked at her.
“Dad might have been angry.”
“I know.”
“But he would have listened.”
She started crying harder.
“I know that now.”
I watched her for a moment.
Then I asked something that had been troubling me.
“Did Dad confront you?”
She nodded.
“When?”
“August twenty-sixth.”
“What happened?”
“He called me into his office.”
She looked around the room as though she could still see him sitting behind the desk.
“He closed the door and asked why I had downloaded documents for Ethan.”
“What did you say?”
“I lied.”
My chest tightened.
“Then?”
“He showed me the access records.”
She wiped her face.
“I thought he was going to call the police.”
“What did he do?”
Rebecca's voice became almost inaudible.
“He asked if my husband was getting better.”
I closed my eyes.
Of course.
Of course that was what Dad would ask.
She continued.
“I told him about the medical bills.”
“Did you tell him about the money?”
“Yes.”
“What did he say?”
“He said I had made a serious mistake.”
I nodded.
“He was right.”
“He said he couldn't pretend it hadn't happened.”
Another pause.
“But he also said people shouldn't have to choose between being honest and keeping their families alive.”
Tears spilled down my cheeks.
Rebecca looked at me.
“He told me to save every email and message Ethan had sent.”
My eyes opened.
“Did you?”
She nodded.
“Where are they?”
“At home.”
“Are they backed up?”
“Yes.”
“Have you given them to anyone?”
“George asked me to send copies to Martin.”
I stared at her.
“Martin already has them?”
“Some.”
“Why didn't he tell me?”
“George asked him not to involve you until he had enough evidence.”
I stood and walked toward the window.
Outside, Dad's truck sat beneath the faded shop sign.
I had spent years thinking that my father was overly cautious.
That he worried too much.
That he couldn't let go of the business because he didn't trust anyone else to handle it.
Now I realized he had spent his last months collecting evidence against the man I slept beside.
And he had done it while trying not to destroy my marriage without proof.
“Rebecca,” I said.
She looked up.
“Will you tell Martin everything?”
“Yes.”
“Even the parts that make you look bad?”
She hesitated.
Then nodded.
“Yes.”
“Good.”
Calvin stepped toward the desk.
“What about the money?”
Rebecca shook her head.
“I can repay it.”
“Not immediately,” I said.
She looked at me.
“You don't have to protect me.”
“I'm not.”
I picked up Dad's notebook.
“I'm asking you to cooperate with the investigation.”
She lowered her eyes.
“I will.”
My phone vibrated.
A text from Martin.
Please call me as soon as you're somewhere private.
I stepped into the hallway.
He answered immediately.
“Lydia, are you alone?”
“Yes.”
“I've reviewed additional records from the bank.”
My throat tightened.
“What did you find?”
“Someone opened a joint checking account in your name last February.”
I leaned against the wall.
“That's impossible.”
“The bank has an account application bearing your identifying information.”
“Who is the other owner?”
Martin paused.
“Ethan.”
I closed my eyes.
Then he added the detail that made my knees feel weak.
“Lydia, that account received more than $290,000 in transfers during the last eight months.”
I stared through the doorway at Rebecca.
“From where?”
“Companies associated with Daniel's business.”
I swallowed.
“Why would they put money in an account with my name on it?”
Martin's answer was quiet.
“Because someone may have been preparing to make you appear financially involved in the transactions.”
I felt sick.
Then I heard the sound of a door opening behind me.
Rebecca stood in the hallway.
She had heard enough to understand.
Her face was pale.
“Lydia,” she whispered.
I looked at her.
“There's something else.”
“What?”
She began shaking.
“I saw Ethan make a copy of your driver's license.”
My heart stopped for a moment.
“When?”
“February.”
I stared at her.
“Why didn't you tell me that earlier?”
Rebecca's voice cracked.
“Because he said you were opening a family investment account.”
I pressed my hand against the wall.
The pieces were coming together.
The forged signature.
The property records.
The bank account.
The loan application.
Ethan wasn't simply planning to spend my inheritance.
May you like
He was constructing a paper trail that could make it look as though I had helped him obtain it.
And if the scheme collapsed, he would have documents bearing my name.
