Chapter 5 - My Name on His Crimes
The first time I saw the company formation documents, I laughed.
Not because anything was funny.
Because the alternative was screaming.
My name appeared in bold letters at the top of the page.
Emily Mercer.
Managing Member.
Beneath it was an electronic signature dated April 11.
I remembered April 11.
I had been at my mother's grave with Rachel.
It was the anniversary of her death.
Daniel had refused to come.
He said grief was becoming a hobby in my family.
"I wasn't home that day," I told Reed.
He sat across from me in a small conference room at police headquarters.
A forensic accountant named Sarah Kim occupied the chair beside him.
"Can you document where you were?" Kim asked.
"Rachel took pictures."
"Good."
"We went to lunch afterward. I used my debit card."
"Also helpful."
I stared at the signature.
"How much money went through this company?"
Kim turned a page.
"We're still tracing the transactions."
"How much?"
She looked at Reed.
He nodded.
"At least two hundred eighty thousand dollars in the records we've obtained so far."
I felt the room narrow.
"Two hundred eighty thousand?"
"Over eighteen months."
I shook my head.
"That's impossible."
Kim spoke gently.
"The records indicate Mercer House paid this company for consulting, relocation coordination, and administrative services."
"What services?"
"That's one of the questions we're investigating."
I looked down.
"Did the money go into my bank account?"
"Not your personal checking account."
I exhaled.
"Then where?"
"An account opened in the company's name."
"Who controlled it?"
"We're obtaining bank records."
My hands began to tremble.
Reed pushed a glass of water toward me.
"Emily, do you remember Daniel asking you to create this company?"
"No."
"Did you ever receive payments from it?"
"Not that I know of."
"Did you have access to its accounts?"
"No."
"Did you sign any corporate agreements?"
"I don't remember."
He studied my face.
"That's okay."
I shook my head.
"No. It's not okay."
I pointed at the paper.
"That's my name."
"Yes."
"If he used my name, he can say I did it."
"That's why we're investigating."
I thought of Daniel telling me that I always remembered things eventually.
How often had he practiced that accusation?
How carefully had he prepared it?
Reed opened another folder.
"We also found something unusual about the forty-thousand-dollar loan."
"What?"
"The money was transferred in stages."
"To whom?"
"The first transfer went to an account controlled by Martin Bell."
I stared at him.
"The CFO."
"Yes."
"What about the rest?"
"We're working on that."
Sarah Kim slid another document across the table.
"Emily, do you recognize this property?"
It was a photograph of a narrow brick townhouse.
Three floors.
Blue front door.
Iron railing.
I frowned.
"No."
"Look at the street."
I leaned closer.
Then I recognized the corner.
"That's two blocks from Mercer House."
Kim nodded.
"The property is owned by an LLC that has received payments connected to the consulting company."
"Who lives there?"
"We don't have a complete answer yet."
I studied the building.
One upstairs window had a child's paper snowflake taped inside.
Something about it made me uneasy.
"Daniel told me all the transitional housing units had been closed after the city inspections."
Reed looked at Kim.
"When was that?"
"Last winter."
Kim wrote something down.
"That's useful."
That afternoon, Rachel took me to a legal-aid appointment.
My attorney was a woman named Teresa Grant.
She was in her forties, wore bright red reading glasses, and spoke with the precision of someone who did not waste sentences.
She explained the differences between the criminal investigation, the protective-order proceedings, and the financial disputes.
They were related.
They were not the same case.
Daniel's arrest would not automatically give me the house.
His charges would not automatically erase the loan.
And his name being on the mortgage did not give him the right to control my life.
I absorbed all of this with a growing sense of outrage.
For years, Daniel had made every legal question sound like an answer he already owned.
Teresa did not pretend the process would be easy.
She showed me options.
Options.
The word felt almost unfamiliar.
"Can he make me pay the loan?" I asked.
"He may try. We'll dispute the authorization and work through the lender's process."
"Can he say I ran the company?"
"He can make allegations. Our job is to examine the evidence and protect your interests."
I stared at my hands.
"What if people believe him?"
Teresa removed her glasses.
"Emily, being accused of something is not the same as being proven responsible for it."
I nodded.
Then she said something I wrote down that night.
"You do not have to be a perfect victim to deserve protection."
Three days after Daniel's arrest, Mercer House announced he would take a temporary leave of absence.
Evelyn became interim executive director.
A local reporter named Olivia Bennett called me for comment.
I declined.
Daniel's attorney had already started describing the dispute as a bitter marital separation.
On television, Gregory Vale spoke of misunderstandings and emotional stress.
He mentioned the pending financial inquiry as though it had arisen from my carelessness.
Then he said my name.
Not Daniel's.
Mine.
"Mrs. Mercer was involved in aspects of the organization's administrative structure."
I turned off the television.
Rachel threw a cushion across the room.
"That bastard."
I stared at the dark screen.
"He planned this."
"Of course he did."
"No. I mean before I found the loan."
Rachel stopped.
"What?"
"The company. The paperwork. His stories about my memory."
I looked up.
"Rachel, what if he was preparing to blame me long before I ever considered leaving?"
My sister's face changed.
"Then we need to find out why."
My temporary phone rang.
Detective Reed.
I answered immediately.
"Emily, are you somewhere private?"
"Yes."
"We've located Hannah Price."
I grabbed the edge of the table.
"She's alive?"
"Yes."
I closed my eyes.
"Thank God."
"But there's a complication."
"What?"
"She says she has evidence against Daniel."
"That's good."
"She also says one of the women whose identity was used in the records was killed."
I froze.
"Who?"
Reed hesitated.
"Her legal name was Natalie Collins."
I had never heard it.
Then he added, "She used another name while receiving services."
My mouth went dry.
"Nora?"
"Yes."
I pressed my hand against my chest.
"What happened to her?"
"We're reviewing the circumstances of her death."
Then Reed said, "Emily, Hannah says you met Natalie."
I shook my head.
"No."
"She says you helped her."
"That's impossible."
"She remembers you giving Natalie a ride home three years ago."
I stared across the room.
And suddenly I remembered a rainy evening.
A young woman sitting in the passenger seat of my car.
A little girl asleep in the back.
A blue front door.
And Daniel waiting for me when I came home.
He had been furious.
Not because I was late.
Because I'd gone somewhere he hadn't approved.
I whispered, "I remember her."
Reed was quiet.
Then he asked, "Emily, what happened after you dropped her off?"
I closed my eyes.
May you like
And remembered Daniel taking my car keys.
For three days.
