Chapter 4 - The Name Nobody Used
June closed the door before she spoke again.
"Her name wasn't Nora when she arrived."
Rachel and I stared at her.
"What was it?" I asked.
June pulled up a chair.
"That isn't mine to disclose without consent."
"June, someone threatened my sister."
"I understand."
"Then please."
June looked at the drive.
"Nora was a name she chose for safety. She was young. Twenty-four, maybe twenty-five."
"Did she work at Mercer House?"
"No. She received services there."
My stomach tightened.
"Was Daniel involved?"
June took a breath.
"She said someone connected to the organization had used her personal information without permission."
Rachel leaned forward.
"What kind of information?"
"Financial accounts. Emergency contacts. Old addresses."
I thought of the bank loan.
My electronic signature.
Daniel's insistence that I had approved something I had never seen.
"Did she say who?"
"She wasn't ready."
"What happened to her?"
"She moved to another program."
"Where?"
"I can't tell you."
June's voice was firm but kind.
"Even if I had that information, it would be hers to share."
Rachel nodded slowly.
"Of course."
June looked at me.
"What I can tell you is that she left a message for another woman."
"Who?"
"Hannah Price."
I went still.
"Did Hannah come here?"
"Once."
"When?"
"Three years ago."
June folded her hands.
"She asked whether Nora was safe. She told me someone at Mercer House was trying to erase the record of her stay."
"Why?"
"She didn't say."
Then June looked toward the drive.
"But she left something with Nora that she wanted Hannah to see."
I whispered, "The drive."
"Possibly."
Reed came to the apartment that evening with a digital-evidence technician.
We did not plug the drive into Rachel's laptop.
The technician photographed it, documented who had handled it, and took custody of it for forensic examination.
Reed also interviewed June separately.
He asked about the telephone call from Claire.
Then he asked the question I had been avoiding.
"Emily, did Daniel ever use your accounts to process donations?"
"Sometimes."
"How often?"
"I don't know."
"Did you have access to the nonprofit's finances?"
"No."
"Did you sign expense reports?"
I hesitated.
"Daniel sometimes brought paperwork home."
"What paperwork?"
"Donor letters. Reimbursement forms. Event invoices."
"Did you read them?"
"Usually."
"Usually?"
I looked down.
"Sometimes he was angry if I took too long."
Reed didn't write immediately.
"Did he pressure you to sign?"
"Yes."
"Did he ever tell you not to read a document?"
I remembered a night two years earlier.
Daniel standing behind my chair.
His hand resting heavily on my shoulder.
"Trust me, Emily. Don't embarrass me by acting like I would cheat my own wife."
"Yes," I whispered.
Reed nodded.
"We'll need to examine those signatures."
I stared at him.
"Could I be in trouble?"
"I can't tell you what the records will show."
I felt my chest tighten.
"But your cooperation matters. So does the context in which you signed."
He looked directly at me.
"Do not try to explain away anything you don't remember. We'll work from the records."
For the first time, I realized Daniel's control had extended beyond my marriage.
My name might be scattered through transactions I knew nothing about.
And he would be happy to let me take the blame.
The next morning, Evelyn Ross called.
I almost didn't answer.
"Emily, darling."
The familiar voice made me nauseous.
"Evelyn."
"I've been worried sick about you."
"Have you?"
A pause.
"Of course."
"I saw the statement."
"That was a legal necessity."
"Your statement said you had confidence in Daniel."
"We have a responsibility to our donors."
"And the women you serve?"
Silence.
Then she sighed.
"You're upset."
"Yes."
"Daniel tells me there have been some misunderstandings."
I closed my eyes.
"Which misunderstandings?"
"About money."
I sat upright.
"What money?"
"The loan."
My hand tightened around the phone.
"Daniel told you about the loan?"
"Only because he was concerned about your reaction."
I heard paper rustling.
"Emily, the board may need to review some documents you signed."
My voice went flat.
"What documents?"
"Expense authorizations."
"I didn't authorize nonprofit expenses."
"Well, there are signatures."
"Then someone needs to investigate them."
"That's exactly why I'm calling."
She paused.
"Perhaps you and I can meet privately before this gets more complicated."
I thought of Daniel's face in the kitchen.
The pressure of his fingers on my jaw.
The moment he realized I had recorded him.
"No."
"Emily, please be reasonable."
"I've been reasonable for five years."
"Evelyn—"
I stopped.
I could hear another voice in the background.
A man's voice.
Low.
Impatient.
I knew it.
Daniel.
My blood went cold.
"Evelyn, is my husband with you?"
Silence.
"Emily—"
"He's there, isn't he?"
"I think we should speak another time."
The line went dead.
I sat motionless.
Then I called Reed.
I told him everything.
He asked me to preserve the call record and write down the conversation as accurately as I could.
When I finished, he was quiet.
Then he said, "Emily, there's something else you need to know."
"What?"
"Our financial team has identified a consulting company receiving payments from Mercer House."
"Who owns it?"
"We're still confirming the beneficial ownership."
"Why are you telling me?"
"Because your name appears on one of the documents associated with it."
I stood.
"That's impossible."
"There's more."
My throat tightened.
"What?"
"The company was created six months before the forty-thousand-dollar loan."
I stared at the wall.
"What's it called?"
Reed answered.
"Mercer Family Recovery Services."
I felt my knees weaken.
"Daniel told me that was the name of our emergency savings account."
Reed was silent.
Then he said, "Emily, it isn't a savings account."
A pause.
May you like
"It's a business."
And according to the paperwork, I was its managing member.
