Chapter 2 - The Woman Before Me
I did not cry when they put Daniel in the police car.
I cried when I found a coffee mug in the sink.
It was mine.
White ceramic, chipped near the handle, with a faded drawing of a yellow sunflower.
Daniel hated it.
He said it made our kitchen look cheap.
For three years, I had kept it in the back of the cabinet.
That morning, while he was attending his donor breakfast, I had used it without asking myself whether he would be angry.
Now it sat in the sink.
Proof that, for one ordinary morning, I had belonged to myself.
Detective Reed found me standing over it.
"Emily?"
I wiped my face.
"I'm okay."
"You don't have to be."
He paused near the doorway.
"We're going to need you to come down to the station."
"Tonight?"
"Yes."
I glanced toward the window.
Outside, two patrol cars waited beneath the streetlights.
"What's going to happen to Daniel?"
"He'll be booked on the charges we have probable cause to pursue."
"Will they keep him?"
"I can't promise that."
I had spent five years believing Daniel was untouchable.
Hearing Reed refuse to make promises frightened me.
But it also made me trust him.
"Then what happens?"
"We document everything. We preserve the recording. We investigate the financial allegations."
He looked toward the hall.
"And I'd like to know what he meant about another woman."
My phone buzzed.
Rachel.
I hadn't spoken to my sister in seven weeks.
Lena had called her earlier, using the number I had provided.
Rachel had been waiting at a safe location.
I answered.
"Em?"
Two letters.
One familiar voice.
And suddenly I couldn't breathe.
"Rachel."
"Oh, God. Are you hurt?"
"I'm okay."
"Don't say that unless you mean it."
I covered my mouth.
She started crying.
I hadn't heard her cry since our father's funeral.
"I'm coming," she said.
"Rachel, the police—"
"I know. I'm meeting you at the station."
A pause.
Then, very quietly, she asked, "Did he tell you about Hannah?"
My fingers tightened around the phone.
"Hannah who?"
Rachel didn't answer immediately.
"Emily, there's something I should have told you a long time ago."
At the station, Lena met me in a small interview room.
She brought water, crackers, a clean sweatshirt, and a printed list of practical decisions I didn't have to make all at once.
Medical care.
Emergency housing.
Protection orders.
Bank notifications.
Password changes.
I stared at the page.
It looked like instructions for dismantling my entire life.
"Do I have to do all this tonight?"
"No," Lena said.
"Then why does it feel like I do?"
"Because Daniel trained you to believe every problem was an emergency unless he was handling it."
She moved the list aside.
"Tonight, we're going to handle one thing at a time."
Rachel arrived twenty minutes later.
She was wearing jeans, a gray sweater, and the black winter coat she'd owned since college.
Her hair was wet from the rain.
She looked older than I remembered.
So did I.
She stopped three feet from me.
"Can I hug you?"
That question nearly broke me.
I nodded.
She held me so tightly I could feel her heartbeat.
"I'm sorry," I whispered.
"No."
"Rachel, I said terrible things to you."
"We can talk about that later."
"I believed him."
She pulled back.
"He worked very hard to make sure you did."
We sat together while Reed returned with a legal pad.
"Rachel, Emily says you might know something about a woman connected to Daniel."
Rachel's jaw tightened.
"Her name was Hannah Price."
"How do you know her?"
"She contacted me three years ago."
I stared at my sister.
"Three years?"
Rachel nodded miserably.
"She told me she used to work at Mercer House."
The name stirred something.
"Hannah Price."
Then I remembered.
A young woman with dark curly hair.
Bright red glasses.
A nervous smile.
She had attended one of Daniel's Christmas fundraising parties.
I remembered her standing alone beside the dessert table while Daniel watched her from across the room.
"She was a case manager," I said.
Rachel looked relieved.
"Yes."
"Daniel told me she stole money."
"He told everyone that."
Reed leaned forward.
"What did she tell you?"
"She said Daniel had used confidential information about women at the shelter to pressure them into signing financial documents."
My stomach turned.
"What kind of documents?"
Rachel reached into her bag.
She took out a battered envelope.
"Hannah gave me copies."
Inside were several printed emails and an unsigned statement.
Rachel handed them to Reed.
"Why didn't you give these to the police?" he asked.
"I tried to contact Hannah again."
"And?"
"She disappeared."
The room fell silent.
"Disappeared how?" I asked.
Rachel looked at me.
"She left Baltimore. Changed her number. Closed her social media."
"That doesn't mean anything."
"I know."
"People move."
"I know, Emily."
"She could have found another job."
Rachel's eyes filled.
"That's what I told myself."
Reed examined the emails.
"Did she ever describe direct threats?"
"Yes."
"From Daniel?"
Rachel hesitated.
"She said he knew where her daughter went to school."
I closed my eyes.
Daniel had spent years telling me Mercer House helped women rebuild their lives.
Every December, I had stood beside him while donors applauded.
I'd handed out blankets.
I'd arranged flowers.
I'd written thank-you notes.
Had I been helping him hurt the very people who came to us for protection?
Reed looked up from the papers.
"Rachel, did Hannah mention any associates?"
"One."
"Who?"
"Martin Bell."
I knew that name.
Martin was Daniel's chief financial officer.
He attended every board meeting.
He had been at our house for Thanksgiving.
He always brought expensive whiskey and made jokes about Daniel's terrible golf swing.
Reed wrote it down.
Then Rachel added something that made his pen stop.
"Hannah said if anything ever happened to her, we should look at the basement office."
"What basement office?" Reed asked.
"The one at Mercer House."
I shook my head.
"There isn't a basement office."
Rachel looked at me.
"Emily, she said Daniel kept a second set of records there."
I stood so quickly my chair scraped backward.
"No."
Lena reached toward me.
"Emily?"
I stared at Rachel.
"There's no basement office because the basement flooded four years ago."
"That's what Daniel told you."
I remembered the renovation.
The construction barriers.
The workers who never entered through the front lobby.
The locked staircase behind the administrative wing.
And I remembered Daniel telling me I wasn't allowed downstairs because the mold could make me sick.
Reed slowly closed the folder.
"Emily, I need you to tell me everything you remember about that basement."
Before I could answer, his phone rang.
He listened without speaking.
Then his expression changed.
"Are you certain?"
A pause.
"Send me the details."
He ended the call.
"Daniel's attorney has already made contact."
I looked up.
"That fast?"
"His attorney isn't the problem."
"What is?"
Reed's voice became very careful.
"Someone accessed the internal incident report before it was formally assigned."
Rachel frowned.
"Who?"
"We're checking."
Reed looked directly at me.
"Emily, until we know who accessed it, do not tell anyone outside this room where you're staying."
Then my phone lit up.
An unfamiliar number.
One text message.
Your sister should have left Hannah alone.
Underneath was a photograph.
Rachel's car.
May you like
Parked outside the police station.
Taken less than five minutes earlier.
